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i 



THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE 


By the Same Author 


THE TREASURES IN THE MARSHES. Price 
$ 1 . 00 . 

THE CROSS ROADS; or, A Choice in Life. Price 
$1.25. 

THE CONSTABLE’S TOWER ; or, The Times of 
Magna Charta. Price $1.00. 

THE SLAVES OF SABINUS. Price $1.25. 

THE CUNNING WOMAN’S GRANDSON : a Story 
of Cheddar a Hundred Years Ago. Price $1.25. 

UNDER THE STORM ; or, Steadfast’s Charge. Price 
$1.25. 

OUR NEW MISTRESS ; or, Changes at Brookfield 
Earl. Price $1.00. 


Thomas Whittaker, 2 and 3 Bible House, New-York. 




‘ COME HITHER , MY CHILD,' SAID THE BISHOP, p. 15 





THE 

COOK AND THE CAPTIVE 

OR, ATT ALUS THE HOSTAGE 


BY 


CHARLOTTE MCYONGE 


AUTHOR OF 

“the constable’s tower,” “the slaves of sabinus,” etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. S. STACEY 


3?^ Right 


SEP <4 ■ 






l/ 


NEW-YORK 

THOMAS WHITTAKER 

2 AND 3 BIBLE HOUSE 

1894 



Copyright, 1894, 

By Thomas Whittaker. 


CONTENTS 


CH \PTER PAGE 

I. LEO IN HIS KITCHEN I 

II. THE BISHOP’S SUPPER 13 

III. GARFRIED OF THE BLUE SWORD 25 

IV. GARFRIED’S GRATITUDE , 38 

V. KING HILDEBERT’S HOSTAGES 49 

VI. THE COUNCIL AT SOISSONS 6l 

VII. ATTALUS LEFT ALONE 7 1 

VIII. HUNDERIK AT HOME 8l 

IX. A STRANGE SUNDAY 92 

X. THE HORSE HERDS 102 

xi. gola’s ransom 1 13 

XII. GILCHRIST’S VENTURE 1 24 

XIII. THE HOLLOW TREE 1 28 

XIV. THE HIND AND THE HOUNDS I36 

XV. HUNDBERT’S RECOVERY 146 

XVI. AN UNWILLING MISSIONARY 1 56 

XVII. A DETERMINED PILGRIM l6o 

XVIII. FRIEDHOLM 165 

XIX. A FRANKISH EPICURE 174 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XX. DOMESTIC CAVILS 1 84 

XXI. GILCHRIST’S PUPIL 194 

XXII. A WEDDING PARTY 203 

XXIII. RACING FOR A WIFE 212 

XXIV. A RIDE FOR FREEDOM 2lS 

XXV. ST. REMl’S LAST CONQUEST 228 

XXVI. HOME 238 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

“come hither, my child,” said the bishop Frontispiece 

BISHOP SILIUS TAKES CHARGE OF ATTALUS 66 

ATTALUS WAS ROUGHLY ROUSED FROM SLEEP BY BODO. . . . IO4 
THE DISCOVERY OF GILCHRIST’S HIDING-PLACE I30 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE 


220 


PREFACE. 



story, so far as the captivity and 
escape of Attalus and Leo’s devotion 
to him are concerned, is literally true 
in every point, and stands on the authority of the 
noted contemporary, the historian of the time, St. 
Gregory, Bishop of Tours. It may be read in 
Thierry’s “ Recits des Temps Merovingiens,” and 
in Madame Guizot de Witt’s “ Histoire de France 
en Chroniques,” or, more accessible to English 
readers, the adventures are given in “ Golden 
Deeds.” 

In one respect I have ventured to vary. Both 
the French versions call Attalus le neveu de Gre- 
goire; but as the Latin nepos stands both for a 
nephew and a grandson, and as the good Bishop 
had formerly been married, and Tetricus was his 
son, it seems most probable (as well as most con- 
venient to the story-teller) that Attalus was his 
grandson. 


PREFACE. 


The other characters are necessarily imaginary, 
but such wandering and eccentric Celtic pilgrims 
as Gilchrist were wonderfully numerous through- 
out the sixth and seventh centuries, and did much 
to prepare the way for more systematic missionary 
work. They were not often in full orders, but 
would be able to baptize. Roswitha, too, has 
many examples among the early Frank ladies. 

The period is very little known, when Gaul had 
been divided between the various tribes of con- 
querors, Goths, Burgundians, and Franks. Most 
professed Christianity, but remained very savage 
and violent, the Franks especially so. The cities 
were, however, almost entirely Gallo- Roman, and 
within them all the Christianity, education, and 
civilization of the Latins were still preserved. 

A word or two further on the names. The 
Franks, or Sicambrians, as they were also called, 
had a harsh, guttural sound, which can best be 
represented by h — Hlodwig (loud or famous war), 
Hildeberht (battle maid bright), and the like. The 
Latin writers represented this by c or ch. Hence 
we get Clovis and Childebertus ; and French, al- 
tering the Latin, gradually made Hlodwig first 
Ludwig or Ludovicus, and finally Louis; though 


PREFACE. 


in these days Clovis has been used as a Christian 
name. French historians talk of Childebert, Chil- 
deric, etc., but I have thought it best to make 
them Hildebert, etc., as nearest to the original, 
and therefore so used in more modern books. 

The Frankish habits are gathered up to the best 
of my ability — where there is very little authority 
for them. The Burgundians, be it remembered, 
had a tolerable code of laws, and were the most 
civilized of the various tribes. 

St. Remi, who baptized Clovis, died in the Jan- 
uary of 533, and as Attalus’s adventure is dated 
in 532, and his first shelter was Rheims, I ven- 
tured to bring them together. 























t 


I 






✓ 























THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE 


— * — 

CHAPTER I. 

LEO IN HIS KITCHEN. 

EO, Leo, give me a bit of cake.” So 
spoke a boy of about ten years old, 
wearing a white serge tunic with pur- 
ple borderings, and a round gold ornament hung 
round his neck. 

“You, Attalus, I thought you were at your 
studies,” returned Leo, a brawny young man 
scantily clad in dark wool, who was busy over a 
stove of tiles, in which were pigeon-holes filled 
with charcoal. He had just taken out a crisp- 
looking pile of little cakes from one of his small 
ovens. 

“ By good luck there is a pilgrim come who 
talks some odd tongue nobody can understand, 



2 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


and they want old Philetus to try to make him 
out.” 

“ No doubt he left you something to do in the 
meantime.” 

“ Nay, now, good Leo, don’t be cross ; I shall 
know my lines of Virgilius Maro twice as well if 
you sweeten them with one of those delicious 
honey cakes. Why, it is all about the bees, and 
how to get a swarm.” 

“ You read me off your bees, three times over, 
sir, and then I’ll give you a honey cake.” 

“Leo, that’s too bad! You might as well be 
old Philetus himself with his bald head and wrink- 
led brow.” 

“ Come, come, or I shall be asking what you 
are doing in my kitchen, and calling Rhys to pin 
a cloth to your tail.” 

“ Now, don’t be cross, good Leo.” 

“ I like to live and learn,” returned the cook, 
who had indeed a most intelligent face, though 
very dark and heated and grimed with charcoal. 
“There, I see your tablet.” 

“ Yes, the old wretch rubbed it over three times 
just because I had got a letter or two wrong in 
the spelling.” 


LEO IN HIS KITCHEN. 


3 


“ There now, let me look. I can tell what that 
is, sir. That is M.” 

“Yes, the first letter of mella. If he did not 
go and box my ears and efface it all because I 
had not put two l’s!” 

Attalus was carrying a frame like a slate, but 
within it was a tablet of wax. On this he had 
written at his master’s dictation his lines of one of 
the Georgies of Virgil, scratching them into the 
wax with a style, a sharp-pointed steel instru- 
ment, and making all the letters capitals, and such 
as we call printed letters, with no divisions be- 
tween the words and no stops, so that the only 
wonder is how any one ever read them at all. 

“ Nay, but let me have a bite to moisten my 
throat before I begin, good Leo, sweet Leo.” 

“ Ah!” said Leo, granting him a broken crumb, 
“ you are not like your grandfather, sir, a very saint. 
Do you see that dish?” 

“ Dry stickjaw barley cakes, fit to choke a man,” 
said Attalus. “ For the next beggar, I suppose? ” 

“ Nay, they are for my Lord Bishop’s own eat- 
ing. They are his dainties; I am going to put 
these honey cakes over them, so that his guests 
may never find out what are his provisions.” 


4 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


“ Rather he than I ! I know it ; and, moreover, 
that he has a glass colored red up to the brim that 
none may suspect him of drinking water but only 
wine. What good is there in that?” 

“Surely you should know, sir; it is the way 
wherewith he subdueth the old self and the de- 
sires and passions thereof.” 

“ But what is the good if no one is to know of 
it, nor praise him for it? ” 

“ That would take away all the benefit of his 
humility. Ah! he is a true saint.” 

“ I wish he was not ! I wish he was not a 
saint or a bishop, but was content to be a senator 
still.” 

“For shame, Attalus! I shall give you no 
more cake if you speak thus profanely.” 

“ I do not see the harm of it. If he was a sen- 
ator still we should not have nothing but dull old 
priests and dirty beggars crouching about; but I 
should have a fine horse and a suit of armor, and 
not have all this dismal grammar and poetry to 
weary out my head.” 

“ You would never wish to be like a wild savage 
Frank or Burgundian?” 

“Would I not! They have beautiful horses, 


LEO IN HIS KITCHEN 


5 


and they gallop, throw the spear and hit the mark, 
and no one dares to gainsay them. They hunt — 
I have heard their horns in the forest — and shoot 
and spear the wild boar and the stag, while we 
can scarce put the tip of our nose outside the 
walls.” 

“ But you would never give up the name of 
Roman to be a wild barbarian, and all your great 
forefathers — ” 

“ I would. I would be free and get beyond 
this narrow bound, and have done with Virgil and 
Quintus Curtius and withered old Philetus, and all 
of them.” 

“ Ah ! and Philetus will return to find you if 
you do not know your lines. Come, sir; first the 
bees and then the honey cake.” 

Attalus with a groan began the lines in which 
the old Roman poet Virgil in his Georgies — a 
poem about husbandry — describes the mode of 
dealing with bees; drawling it out and moaning 
over it much as a boy of any century would do 
unless he had a real spirit of learning. It was, 
however, more to him what a task from the “ De- 
serted Village ” would be to an English boy, for 
Latin was his mother tongue, and, in spite of what 


6 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


he had said, he was proud of being a true-born 
Roman, though these were very sad times for the 
Romans in Gaul, or indeed anywhere else. 

The place he lived in may be found in the map 
of France, in the department of the Haute-Marne, 
by the name of Langres. However, the river 
Marne is probably the only thing that remains the 
same as it was in the year A.D. 530, and even 
that has altered its name from Matrona. Attalus 
knew the city by the name of Andematunum 
Lingonum, from the old Gaulish tribe whom the 
Romans had called Lingones; and the present 
name is taken from that tribe, most of the French 
towns having been called after the ancient Gallic 
clans instead of by the names the Roman con- 
querors gave them. 

The Roman Empire had been overrun by many 
savage nations of the stock we call Teutonic. 
There were Saxons and Angles, as we all know, 
in Britain. There were Burgundians in the north- 
west of Gaul, Goths in the south, Franks in the 
middle, but they had for the most part not wrought 
as terrible havoc among the inhabitants as had 
been the case in England. The Goths and Bur- 
gundians had been Christians before they came 


LEO IN HIS KITCHEN. 


7 


into the country, and they respected the Roman 
bishops and even the magistrates; and the Franks 
were converted not long after they had settled 
upon the banks of the Seine and Loire. 

Most of the towns and cities had strong walls, 
and these wild men were like the Scot who said 
he had rather hear the lark sing than the mouse 
squeak. They did not interfere with the old in- 
habitants of these fortresses, except now and then 
to demand sums of money or jewels from them ; 
and the inhabitants all held themselves tributary 
to the Roman Empire, but were able to govern 
themselves. Often they made their bishop their 
governor, and they generally chose one who was 
able to act as a statesman and manage their affairs 
with the barbarians. Gregory, the grandfather of 
Attalus, had been an excellent magistrate or sen- 
ator, as the office was then called, at Augustodu- 
num or Autun. After his wife died he took holy 
orders, and wished to live a retired life, but the 
men of Langres, knowing him to be as able and 
experienced as he was good and holy, elected him 
to be their bishop, and besought him with tears to 
accept the office and become their protector. 

Thither, then, he moved, after his consecration, 


8 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


with his son Tetricus and his little orphan grand- 
son Attalus. It was a large household, for Greg- 
ory was a rich man, and used hospitality freely, 
though he lived sparingly himself. This kitchen 
of his — a place very unlike modern kitchens — was 
a low room fitted throughout with tiles, and with 
a charcoal stove full of pigeon-holes, one row of 
them holding the hot embers, those above, the 
food that was to be cooked. A table was at hand 
on which some cold meats were laid, and there 
were shelves holding the various utensils. 

Just at present there was a pause in the opera- 
tions, during which Leo stood listening to and 
sometimes , prompting his young master. They 
were a great contrast. Attalus had a fair skin, 
rosy cheeks like a girl’s, delicate features, and dark 
eyes, but his hair, cut short in Roman fashion, 
was light. Leo, on the other hand, had the very 
blackest and crispest of hair, and great eyes of the 
darkest hue with bluish whites, and not only his 
cheeks but his bare arms and legs were brown as 
if stained. His features were, however, straight 
and well-formed, and if the blood of a colored race 
mingled with his it was probably Moorish and not 
Negro. He had been born a slave in the family 


LEO IN HIS KITCHEN. 


9 


of Gregory, and had been always happy and con- 
tented in his lot, for Christianity had much soft- 
ened the life of servitude, especially with a good 
master. Leo’s father and mother had been law- 
fully married in church, and always treated kindly 
and honorably, waited upon like relations through 
their old age, and buried with all the honors due 
to Christians, and he, being always intelligent, had 
early made himself useful and respected in the 
house ; but he had in his youth preferred activity 
to learning, though, since his master had become 
a bishop, and moved to Langres, keeping his 
house full of priests, clerks, and the like, Leo had 
been seized with the ambition to become a scholar, 
and took every opportunity of picking up what 
learning he could from Attalus or any other of 
his housemates. 

Supper was, however, near at hand. It might 
have been called dinner, for it was the only meal 
to which the household sat down in full order, 
and it took place at about five o’clock. Snatches 
of food were taken at other times of the day, and 
more luxurious households had a regular dinner 
at twelve, but Bishop Gregory hardly ever ate 
until the evening, and then he kept open house. 


IO 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


So Leo began in haste to take his meats out of 
their holes and to dish up. 

Philetus’s voice was also heard calling for Atta- 
lus, who had to hasten away to repeat his lesson, 
not sorry that Leo had insured his learning it. 

Philetus was waiting in the court, which was 
turfed over, though the turf was much burned up 
by the sun. There was a fountain in the middle, 
and a colonnade of circular pillars and curiously 
carved capitals all round the sides, making a clois- 
ter, paved with beautiful glazed tiles forming an 
intricate pattern in red and yellow. There were 
benches, stools, chairs, and tables in the cloister, 
for except in the depth of winter it was the com- 
mon resort of the house, and it served as Attalus’s 
school- room. 

Philetus was a deacon, a Greek, as might be 
seen by his clearly defined features. He was not 
young, and had been cast about a good deal in 
the world. He had lived through the sack of 
many cities, and could speak many languages be- 
sides the Greek in which he had been educated 
at Lyons, and thus he had been fitted, so far as 
acquirements went, to be the tutor of the young 
Attalus. 


LEO IN HIS KITCHEN. 


I I 

“ Come, sir, I see you have been wasting your 
time in gluttony in the kitchen as usual,” he ex- 
claimed. 

By way of answer Attalus began to gabble off 
his lines headlong without a single error. 

“ Come, sir, this will not do. Let me hear them 
slowly and with the right accent.” 

“ Are not you disappointed of your box on the 
ear? I see your fist doubled.” And away rushed 
the boy far beyond Philetus’s powers of pursuit. 

Ere long, however, he came, as running at full 
speed he turned a corner, with a bounce against a 
grave-faced person in a dark dress, no other than 
his Uncle Tetricus, a priest, and a rather severe 
man. He caught the runaway by the shoulder 
and demanded, “What means this, Attalus?” 

“ It means, father,” said Philetus, “ that he has 
treated me with rudeness. I was called away to 
interpret for the holy man from Ireland, and I 
gave him a lesson to study. He wastes his time 
in the kitchen, gabbles something — I know not 
what — unintelligibly, and flees away that instant 
without a word.” 

“ He was going to cuff me when I had said the 
whole without missing a word,” responded Attalus. 


12 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


“No answering again, sir,” replied Tetricus; 
“ you who love the kitchen so well have no need 
of supper. Sit in that corner and study your 
lines, and half a dozen more for disrespect to your 
tutor.” 

“ But I said it perfectly, only he would not at- 
tend.” 

“ No replying again, I told you. Take your 
tablet and go into the corner. Think upon the 
duty of a Christian to submit in silence.” 

Attalus durst say no more, but he went, vio- 
lently kicking his heels, into the corner, stuck his 
iron style viciously into the stones till it broke, 
and then scribbled with the stump over the wax 
of his tablet. Heat was needed to take out the 
writing properly, but to destroy it in this way was 
a relief of a certain kind to a naughty boy, under 
a strong sense of injustice. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE BISHOP’S SUPPER. 

HERE is my little Attalus?” asked 
Bishop Gregory, looking round after 
blessing the food which was set forth 
upon a table shaped like a horseshoe, and with 
its outside arranged for guests, who could recline, 
in old Roman fashion, upon couches. 

The Bishop was a grand-looking old man, with 
a bald head, but a little silver hair falling upon his 
neck beneath the remains of his tonsure, which in 
ancient Gallic fashion, like that of Tetricus and 
the other priests, had been a crown. His beard 
was long and white, and his garments were of 
white wool bordered with purple, a gold cross 
hung round his neck, and he had a sapphire ring 
on his finger, a delicate finger as of one who had 
dealt all his life with books. His cheeks were 
clear and beautiful with the fair pureness of a 
good old man’s age, his eyes dark and still bright 



14 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


and lively as he looked about for the darling of 
his old age. 

“ He was insolent to Philetus, sir," said Tetri- 
cus, “ and I therefore sent him into a corner of the 
cloister to learn his lesson and repent.” 

“ What was his insolence ? Ask Philetus to 
come here and relate it.” 

Philetus came, and bending low before his clem- 
ency, he told how Attalus had been sent to learn 
by heart the lines of Virgil to occupy him while 
his tutor was engaged with the holy pilgrim Gil- 
christ, then how he had escaped to the kitchen, 
and then on being called he had gabbled out 
something, no one knew what, headlong, and so 
ran off laughing. 

“Are you certain that he did not repeat the 
lines?” asked the Bishop. 

“ My lord, I am not sure. He recited them off 
so fast.” 

“ Let him come hither and say them to me,” 
said the Bishop. “ He deserves a more severe pun- 
ishment if he merely pretended to say them ; but 
if he did, and Master Philetus did not hear, well, 
it is the part of a wise man to have patience with 
the petulance of boyhood. Let the boy be called.” 


THE BISHOP'S SUPPER. 


15 


Attalus came willingly. He knew that he had 
more justice if not indulgence to look for from his 
grandfather than from those who called him a 
spoiled boy. 

“ Come hither, my child,” said the Bishop. 
“ What is this that I hear ? That you did not 
treat Philetus as your tutor and governor.” 

“ Sir, he would not attend to my task, and was 
about to strike me, because he said I did not 
know it, when I did, and had just said it,” said 
Attalus, looking up with defiant eyes. 

Gregory bade him repeat it, and this he did, 
perfectly. 

“ This was what thou didst repeat before?” 

“ Only I was in haste, and said it faster, and 
neither he nor my Uncle Tetricus would listen to 
me, but blamed me more for trying to answer 
them.” 

“ You have been saucy, but not so misbehaved 
as they supposed. You shall be restored to your 
place on telling Philetus you are sorry for your 
hasty manner.” 

“ Father, I, a Roman, ask pardon of a beggarly 
Greek? ” cried the boy with flashing eyes. 

“ Alas, my son, pride like this abases any, 


1 6 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

whether Greek or Roman! Philetus is thy tutor, 
and thou art bound to treat him with the respect 
due to his office, even as saith the law. A spirit 
like this of pride and contempt is far worse than the 
momentary impatience under provocation which I 
could have excused. If thou canst not school 
thyself to apologize to Philetus, thou must sit 
apart from the table and eat dry bread." 

Attalus only half heard the rather lengthy 
words of the good Bishop, at least he only took 
in that he must either ask the Greek’s pardon or 
sup on dry bread, and all the pride of his Roman 
forefathers was rising in him to declare that he 
had rather live on bread and water all the rest of 
his days than humble himself to one whom he 
considered little better than a slave, nay, to whom 
he greatly preferred the slave Leo. He durst not 
make any answer to his grandfather, but he turned 
on his heel and went off into the farther end of 
the great dining-hall, and sat himself down on the 
mosaic tiles of the pavement. 

Bishop Gregory sighed; but there were guests 
to attend to, and it might be best to leave him to 
himself. The pilgrim with whom Philetus had 
been engaged was brought forward, walking very 


THE BISHOP'S SUPPER , 1 7 

lame. He was a small, wiry, red-haired man, with 
his hair cut in a crescent shape, in the distinctive 
fashion of the Celtic churches, and wearing a 
coarse, scanty, reddish-brown garment, and he 
spoke Latin, but with an accent and pronuncia- 
tion so different from that of the educated Gallo- 
Romans that it was no wonder that he had not 
been at first understood. He was on a pilgrimage 
to Rome, whither almost every Christian of much 
enterprise or desire to learn made his way in those 
days, to see the tombs of the martyrs, behold the 
full glory of worship, and study the faith as it was 
impossible to do in the barbarian lands. 

He had much to tell which all were anxious to 
hear of the state of the Church of Ireland, now 
come to the second generation of its conversion. 
He looked about with great surprise at Gregory 
on his chair inlaid with ivory, and his attendance 
of clergy, priests, deacons, and subdeacons. 

“This is a king!” he said, “a wealthier king 
than we have. No such bishops have we. Ours 
dwell in the cells of the monasteries, and go hither 
and thither as the abbot bids them.” 

“The better for the bishop,” observed Bishop 
Gregory ; “ but is it also the better for his people 


1 8 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

not to look to their spiritual head as the chief 
authority? ” 

“ Ah ! but ’tis the abbot who is the father and 
has the land. Such monasteries as you have here ! 
They are castles and forts.” 

“ ’Tis our need against the barbarians.” 

“ And what could the barbarians do at their 
worst but help you to the better keeping of your 
vow? ” 

" His monasteries are but clusters of huts,” sug- 
gested one of the guests. 

“ The better for them. Their huts all stand 
about their church and their general kitchen and 
eating-room ; for the rest, each man to himself. 
What can be better for their prayer and medita- 
tion ? ” 

“ Oh, then they do live in community like our 
own monks ? ” 

Tetricus, afraid, perhaps, of a dispute on the 
comparative merits of the two systems, asked 
whether the guest had ever seen the great St. 
Patrick. 

The face lighted up with a look of love and joy, 
transforming the worn, plain, and freckled features, 
as he told how, when quite a little boy, his mother 


THE BISHOP'S SUPPER. 


19 


had taken him to the saint in his cell at Armagh 
to be baptized, and how the holy man had asked 
the child if he knew why he came. 

“ * To become the servant of Christ my Lord/ 
I answered,” said the pilgrim, “so they tell me, 
though I remember only the long beard and ten- 
der eyes of the ancient man ; but he replied, 4 Ser- 
vant, then, of His thou shalt be, little one,’ and he 
named me Gilchrist, for gil in our tongue signifies 
servant. My mother ever kept up in me the 
memory that a servant of Christ must be servant 
of all men, and seek to take the lowest place, and 
so she objected not that I should leave the king- 
ship of our sept to mine uncle, and seek the cells 
at Armagh.” 

“Am I mistaken ? ” asked Bishop Gregory. “ Me- 
thought I had been told that Saal — no, a place with 
a name like holy Paul’s Jewish name, or that of the 
Israelite king — was the last home of the blessed 
Patrick?” 

“The holy father is right,” returned Gilchrist; 
“ Sabrelhall, or as we call it, Saul, was his best- 
beloved resting-place, and it was thence that he 
departed to paradise ; but he had already chosen 
Armagh to be the chief see of Ireland — a fair spot 


20 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


on the Ridge of the Willow Tree. Will my lord 
hear how he gained it? ” 

“ Any deed of St. Patrick is worth hearing,” re- 
turned Gregory. 

“ The hill belonged to a chief named Daire, who 
set store by it and would not give it, but offered 
a spot in the valley. A day or two later he sent 
the holy man a great caldron holding three firkins. 

‘ Gratias again ’ (I will give thanks), said the saint. 
So Daire asked the messenger what said the Bishop. 

‘ He said naught but “ Gratzacham,” ’ replied the 
kerne. ' What a fool the fellow must be,’ said 
Daire, ‘ to say naught but “ Gratzacham ” to such 
a kettle as mine. Go, slaves, and take it away.’ 
He was obeyed, and the saint merely turned his 
head and again said his two words of thanks. 

‘ What said he? ’ asked the chief. 4 What, “ Gratz- 
acham ” when I give, and “ Gratzacham ” again 
when I take away? He shall have it back again.’ 
A third time the holy Bishop merely answered 
4 Gratias again? and the chief was so struck with 
his meekness that he cried out that for these three 
4 Gratzachams ’ he should have the hill he sought. 
And when the Bishop went out to view the hill, 
behold, on the very spot he had chosen for the 


THE BISHOP'S SUPPER. 


2 


altar, there lay a little newborn fawn, the mother 
roe standing beside to guard it. Some would 
have slain her, but the holy Patrick forbade them. 
He took the little fawn up in his arms and carried 
it to a safe place, the roe trotting by his side 
till he laid it down. The altar of our church, 
the mother church of Erin, is where the fawn 
lay.” 

As Gilchrist told this pretty tale, Attalus had 
crept nearer and nearer the better to hear the 
strangely accented Latin in which it was related. 
His grandfather saw his face of intense interest 
but carefully abstained from drawing on him the 
attention of the disciplinarian tutor or uncle, and 
only thanked the pilgrim and asked what more 
stories he could tell of the great apostle of Ire- 
land. 

So Gilchrist told what some of them already 
knew: how Patrick, of noble Roman birth, had 
been stolen from his home by Irish pirates, made a 
slave, and set to keep sheep on the mountain side ; 
but how he ever said his prayers, about which he 
had been sadly careless at home, and how, after 
five years, a voice sounded in his ears at night 
calling on him to escape, at which he made his 


22 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


way to the coast where a ship was ready to take 
him in, and he reached Bononia once more. But 
the thought of the heathens he had left returned 
on him, till he again had a vision of an Irish chief 
calling for his help. “ Even as St. Paul had seen the 
man of Macedonia summoning him into Europe,” 
commented Gregory. 

Many a history had Gilchrist to tell, notably of 
the two daughters of King Lear of Connaught, 
who, going to the fountain of Cruachan in the 
early morn, Ethne the fair and Fedlima the rosy, 
saw the Bishop and his friends, white-robed, and 
singing their morning praise, and thought they 
were of the fairy race made visible, then listened, 
learned the faith, and were baptized. He told 
too, of Angus, King of Munster, who begged St. 
Patrick to consecrate and crown him. In the 
course of the ceremony Patrick unwittingly struck 
his pastoral staff absolutely into the king’s foot 
and kept it there, while Angus, in perfect submis- 
sion to his spiritual father, accepted it as part of the 
rite, never winced nor sighed, and the mischance 
was not known till the blood was seen running 
from his foot. Then when the saint, much dis- 
tressed, asked his pardon, he said, “ All is good to 


THE BISHOP'S SUPPER. 


23 


me that comes in the name of Christ, and from 
my father.” 

All this Gilchrist told, and ended by chanting 
to them the Latin translation of the “ Breastplate 
of St. Patrick,” which he had given to King Leir 
of Ulster as a defense against all enemies, within 
and without. It ends with : 

Christ with me, Christ before me, 

Christ behind me, Christ within me, 

Christ beneath me, Christ above me, 

Christ at my right, Christ at my left, 

Christ in the fort, 

Christ in the chariot seat, 

Christ in the ship, 

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, 

Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks to me, 
Christ in every eye that sees me, 

Christ in every ear that hears me. 

I bind to myself to-day 

The strong power of an invocation of the Trinity, 

The faith of the Trinity in Unity, 

The Creator of the elements. 

It is not clear how much Attalus heard of the 
** Breastplate,” for even as it began, after the story 
of Angus was finished, he had begun to weep. 
He was sobbing throughout the hymn in a low, 
repressed manner, and when it was ended he came 
forward, threw himself on his knees before his 
grandfather, and cried in a broken voice, ” Oh, for- 


24 THE cook and the captive. 

give me, forgive me, for my proud speech and idle 
ways! I ask Philetus’s pardon, and I will never, 
never talk of beggarly Greeks again.” 

“ God bless thee, my child, as thou hast felt 
Christ in those holy words, and forgive thee all 
thy sins, as no doubt He forgives thee these,” 
said the Bishop, laying his hand on the boy’s 
head, raising him, and kissing him. “ Philetus, 
thou forgivest him?” 

“ I have no other choice, my lord,” returned 
Philetus, rather vexed that the boy had not been 
made to humiliate himself personally, and mutter- 
ing to the subdeacon, his neighbor, “ It was a 
charm. Such Latin as that must be no better 
than a charm.” 


CHAPTER III. 


GARFRIED OF THE BLUE SWORD. 



HE pilgrim, Gilchrist, turned out to be 
almost incapable of standing the next 
morning. He had trodden upon the 
sharp remains of a broken ax or dagger on some 
old battle-field, and, rusty as it was, it had pene- 
trated the tough skin of his bare foot, and the rust 
had poisoned the wound. He must have been in 
much pain all the evening, though after he had 
limped in and had washed his feet he had let no 
token escape him ; but it was now recollected that 
he had talked all supper-time instead of eating, 
and the subdeacon, Lucius, who lay next him on 
the hall floor, believed that he had been saying 
prayers in his barbarous Irish all night. 

“ Talk of the Spartan boy ! ” said Philetus, who 
knew something of surgery and dressed his wound, 
“ even barbarian Christians can go far beyond 
him.” 


25 


26 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


Gregory was obliged to use his episcopal author- 
ity and command the zealous pilgrim to remain 
without moving upon one of the couches, not even 
attempting to come to church, as he was actually 
trying to do on his hands and knees. He was 
forced to lie still under pain of being unable to 
continue his journey to Rome, and the whole 
household had ample time to hear his many and 
most wonderful stories, and to learn by heart the 
“ Breastplate of St. Patrick,” as well as others of 
the beautiful hymns of the old Irish Church, 
among them one whose English version is familiar 
to us as a Eucharistic hymn : 

Kneel down, and take the Body of thy Lord, 

And drink the Sacred Blood for thee outpoured. 

However, Attalus soon had another interest 
more congenial to him than the narratives of Gil- 
christ. One afternoon a brilliant-looking troop 
drew up at the gateway of the court. The sun 
shone on brazen armor, scaly armpieces, broad 
breastplate, gay shield, and on tunics of purple, 
red, or blue, in especial on the gilded wings of the 
helmet of the tall leader, and on the long hair, 
loosely gathered beneath it, now faded, tanned by 


GARFRIED OF THE BLUE SWORD. 


27 


the sun, but once evidently of the same golden 
fairness as that of the young boy who rode beside 
him. All were on large, heavy horses, but care- 
fully groomed, the skins of the bays shining like 
silk, and the dappled grays showing their mottling 
of black and white. The household was not 
alarmed, for the party was recognized as belonging 
to the Burgundian, Garfried of the Blue Sword, a 
comparatively civilized man (as were all the Bur- 
gundians), who had had so much intercourse with 
Gregory as Senator of Autun as to be called his 
friend and brother. 

By that title, indeed, each hailed the other, as 
Gregory, hastily warned, came out to the top of 
the steps of the hall to meet his guest, not without 
a murmur, far in the rear of his train, among sub- 
deacons and readers, that to pay such respect to a 
wild barbarian was beneath the dignity of a bishop. 
But barbarians were not to be trifled with, even 
though, like Garfried, they had been orthodox 
Christians their whole lives through. So the chief 
and the Bishop embraced, kissing each other fer- 
vently on both cheeks, and went into the hall hand 
in hand, as soon as Gregory had offered his guest 
a great cup of wine, after tasting it with his lips, 


28 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


and Garfried had drained it off. It was the uni- 
versal custom as the pledge of hospitality and of 
peace ; and Gregory likewise kissed and welcomed 
the two boys, of about fourteen and twelve years 
old. Tetricus and Attalus also were called for- 
ward to give the greeting of hospitality, and the 
three lads stood looking at one another shyly, for 
they had no common language, or only a few 
words. Friedbald and Baldrik knew no Latin, nor 
did Attalus speak that parent dialect of old high 
German which was the native tongue of the young 
Burgundians. 

Slaves came round with great handsome em- 
bossed brazen bowls to wash the feet of the guests, 
and to help Garfried and his principal companions 
to disarm, and in the meantime Leo and his assist- 
ants were hurrying on the preparations for sup- 
per, and adding all the extra dishes they could 
supply in haste, as more than one dying cackle in 
the court testified. The visitors had, however, 
brought their share, for they had captured two or 
three of the progeny of a wild sow in the forests 
on their way, and these were being hastily scalded 
and roasted for the Gauls, far from ignorant of the 
excellence of “ crackling.” 


GARFRIED OF THE BLUE SWORD. 


29 


It was not etiquette to ask a guest his business, 
and the rules of politeness are never so exact nor 
so well observed as where terrible consequences 
may fall upon any breach of them. So the sup- 
per was served, with silver bowls for the higher 
guests to eat their stew of broth from, and Gar- 
fried tried to screw up his long legs on the couch 
as he well knew was Roman good manners, and 
looked reproof at his sons as they knew not what 
to do with their legs, and finally hung them down. 
Pieces of kid, the little pigs, and roasted fowls 
came round afterward, and varieties of cheeses, 
fruits, and sweets prepared with honey. Mean- 
while there was an exchange of news, for Garfried 
was well able to speak Latin, and he told of the 
wild doings of the Frankish kings, who were far 
more savage and less tamed by Christianity than 
were the Burgundians. These had been subdued 
and brought to belong to the P"rank kingdom by 
Clovis, the first Christian king of the Franks; and 
his widow, Clotilda, who had brought about his 
conversion, was living as saintly a life as was then 
possible, and guarding her little grandson Chlo- 
doald, who is known to us as St. Cloud, from the 
cruel savagery of his uncles. There was much to 


30 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

be told about the quarrels of her sons, Hloter, 
Theuderic, and Hildebert, who had divided their 
father’s kingdom between them, and of her nephew 
Theudebert’s war with the Thuringian Germans, a 
much more untamed race, against whom he himself 
had done his part. 

All this lasted till the meal was over, and then 
Garfried told what had brought him. “ Know, 
most holy Bishop, that my wife, Adelhild, seeing 
me in great danger of death after King Theuderic’s 
raid, made a vow that her next child should be 
dedicated to God, St. Denis, and St. Martin, if I 
recovered. She hoped, poor woman, that it might 
have been a maid- child, when no scath would 
have been done. Forgive me for talking as an 
unchastened heathen,” he exclaimed, crossing him- 
self ; “ but there stands the child, my son Baldrik, 
and I have brought him hither to ask of you to 
foster him, give him the tonsure, and bring him 
up to fulfill his mother’s vow and be a worthy 
priest.” 

Baldrik, though he knew not the language, 
knew well enough why his father had brought 
him, and as he saw the Bishop’s eyes fixed on him 
his fair cheeks became dyed of a deep red. 


GARFRIED OF THE BLUE SWORD. 


3 


“ We will do our best, with God’s good help, to 
train him,” returned the Bishop. “ Hath he man- 
ifested any vocation? ” 

“ He hath known to what he is destined,” re- 
plied the father; “but for the rest he hath been 
like other boys, though not untoward. You, I 
see, have a young lad in training.” 

“ My beloved daughter’s son,” replied Gregory; 
“ but I am not wholly decided as to his destiny. 
I wait to see him show what is his mind when he is 
less childish. He will rejoice in a companion.” 

“ I thought he was shaven,” said Garfried, “ but 
I trow it is only the Roman fashion. You will give 
my boy the tonsure ere I leave him with you ? ” 

“ If it be your will,” replied Gregory. 

“ To tell the truth,” said Garfried, lowering his 
voice, “ he may be the safer thus. At any time 
Theudebert or Hildebert may recollect that I and 
my boys bear the blood of King Gondebald of 
Burgundy and of Odin, and if they should cut us 
off — which they would not do save at their own 
peril and loss” — and he grasped his dagger-hilt 
— “ then would the life of the youngest, his dead 
mother’s darling, be safe, even as Chlodoald’s was 
when his brethren were slain.” 


32 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

The elder son, Friedbald, who could follow the 
words, muttered, “ Better die as a brave man than 
live as a priest.” 

“ Sayest thou so, my son! ” said Gregory in 
the Frank tongue. “ Mayhap as much courage is 
needed by the priest as by the soldier. Come 
hither, my son,” he added to Baldrik, in the same 
language, laying his hand on the young head, 
while the boy shuddered at the first touch on his 
fair hair. “ Nay, I am not going to shear these 
bright locks to-night. Wilt thou come and be 
comrade and brother with my Attalus?” 

“ My father says I must. My mother has vowed 
me,” returned Baldrik. 

“ Thou art obedient. It is well. Take him, 
Attalus,” and he laid the two boys’ hands in each 
other. “ Use him as thy friend and brother.” 

“ Let him show me the horses and the boar- 
spears and axes,” cried Attalus, with glancing 
eyes. 

“Ah!” put in Garfried, “I was about to say 
that some of the serfs, as I rode in, when they saw 
the sucking-pigs on my men’s saddles, told us that 
the old boar and sow were making great havoc of 
their crops, and it would be a good deed to slay 


GARFRIED OF THE BLUE SWORD. 


33 


them. I thought, if you gave me hospitality for 
another day, that I would go in quest of them.” 

“ It will be a deed of charity,” said Gregory. 

So in the early morning there was a great scene 
of bustle. Friedbald went with his father as a 
matter of course, and Baldrik pleaded hard to have 
one chase more, while Attalus entreated his grand- 
father to let him go for once and see the enterprise. 
He hesitated, for a boar-hunt was a particularly 
dangerous sport, especially when there was the 
chance of meeting an infuriated sow; but the boy 
was wild to go, and when Leo came up respect- 
fully to beg leave to go out with the hunters, 
otherwise he was sure that the daintiest morsels 
would never be scientifically cut off, and that the 
bristles would never be secured for the painters 
and binders of the precious books, and when he 
further promised to take the utmost care of the 
young Lord Attalus, Gregory consented, on con- 
dition that his grandson promised to keep close to 
Leo, and not to run into danger with Baldrik and 
Friedbald. 

Attalus had a mule, for every one learned to 
ride, as it was the only way of moving about, and 
Gregory with his whole household were wont to 


34 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


move from one of the towns of his See to another. 
Of course the Burgundian guests were all well 
mounted, and Attalus begged and prayed to be 
allowed to have one of the horses, old as it was, 
which had belonged to his grandfather’s days as 
Senator; but the ways even of old Lartius were 
thought to be too dangerous, and he was refused. 

Even then it may be feared that he would have 
persuaded Niger, the slave who had charge of the 
stables, if Leo had not come up and absolutely 
refused to take charge of him on anything but his 
own animal, named Jugurtha in derision of its 
pace. 

“You would be far in front of me — Lartius 
would carry you into the very haunt of the swine, 
and I should find my lady sow snorting over you 
for the sport of her piglings.” 

So Attalus was forced to submit, with a sulky 
face, believing that Friedbald and Baldrik were 
laughing at him, though their father spoke to him 
in a friendly way : “ Cheer up, young Herr, you 
will not find that any one needs much speed if the 
boar lies where I am told to seek him.” 

They went out at the gate of the town, and a 
rabble rout of men and boys were following, when 


GARFRIED OF THE BLUE SWORD. 


35 


Garfried turned round, shook his great boar-spear, 
and shouted in his bad Latin that no one was to 
follow and disturb the animals. He only wanted 
as guides a couple of stout Gallic peasants, the 
same whose field had been devastated ; as to the 
others, if they followed, they must expect to be 
treated — “ like the swine they are,” muttered 
Friedbald, looking ready to charge upon them 
with his spear. 

They fell back, the boldest meaning to follow 
at a safe distance out of sight, where they might 
chance to pick up a little pig. 

There were some twenty Burgundians besides 
Garfried and his two sons, Leo, and Attalus, and 
four great hounds, two and two in leashes, bristly 
brindled creatures, with fine crested heads, fierce 
fangs, and deep thunderous voices. Attalus shrank 
from them, and wondered to see Baldrik fearlessly 
caress them, and the great heads laid lovingly 
against him. 

They passed the field, where the stone fence 
had been knocked down, and there were traces of 
the hog family in the grievous trampling and root- 
ing up and the vine lying prostrate. Then they 
turned off the smooth Roman road into the forest, 


36 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


a tangle where the peasants led the way, and truly 
the horses had little chance of outspeeding those 
on foot, though there was a kind of rough path. 

Attalus was not sorry now that Leo kept close 
beside his mule’s head. The Burgundians, who 
went before, made the path all the easier for those 
who followed on their traces ; but there were fears 
of being left behind and lost, which made the kind 
companionship welcome, as the rest hurried on 
their way, leaving their traces only in broken or 
bent boughs, which now and then swung back 
again, and were held or sometimes cut off by the 
great butcher’s knife which Leo carried with him. 

They had gone on to a more open space, where 
the trees had grown more scantily, and there was 
a marsh filled with rushes, a few alder-bushes 
growing up among them, and a sluggish stream 
taking its course along the midst. They heard 
shouts and cries and blasts of a horn, and were 
about to direct their course by them when sud- 
denly out of the thicket burst Baldrik on his horse, 
which was rushing off at full speed, quite beyond 
his control, and dashing blindly against a tree, fell 
with him. The horse was up again in a moment, 
and flew on ; the boy lay senseless, and before Leo 


GA R FRIED OF THE BLUE SWORD . 37 

and Attalus had had time to reach him, out came, 
with furious floundering pace, the much-dreaded, 
raging mother-pig, and was about to wreak her 
vengeance for her scattered brood upon the pros- 
trate boy, when Leo, standing over him, arrested 
her progress by seizing her by the ear with one 
hand, and with the other plunging his knife into 
her throat with all the judgment of his art, so that 
she fell dead just as Garfried broke through the 
trees with his spear. 


CHAPTER IV. 


garfried’s gratitude. 

ALDRIK lay insensible, and only groaned 
as Leo dragged the weight of the sow 
from off him ; but he was living, as Leo 
assured the father, who threw himself from his 
horse to call to him to look up and say where he 
was hurt. 

The rest of the hunt came clamoring up, and it 
appeared that while Garfried, Friedbald, and their 
men were engaged with the boar, which had 
slaughtered one of the dogs and torn the side of 
one of the men, standing at bay under a steep 
bank, where his lair was to be found, Baldrik had 
caught sight of some of the little pigs, and, remem- 
bering the exploit of yesterday, had ridden at one 
with his spear; whereupon their incensed mother 
had broken forth from the bushes, and his horse, 
taking fright, had rushed away headlong, and ap- 
parently had dashed his head against one of the 
38 



GARFRIED 'S GRA TITUDE. 


39 


branches of the trees, for there was a heavy black 
bruise and a wound under his hair across his brow, 
and his leg also hung as if it had been broken in 
the fall. 

There was a certain rough knowledge of surgery 
among the Burgunds, and Attalus declared that 
Philetus would know what would be a cure, for 
he loved to be called Machaon, after the old man 
who doctored people in the “ Iliad. ” This last 
piece of information was lost upon Garfried, who 
was, with the help of his shield-bearer and Leo, 
binding the broken limb with his belt to the shaft 
of a spear, and causing some branches to be cut 
down on which Baldrik could be carried back to 
Langres, as he still lay unconscious, stunned by 
the blow, which might be regarded as the worst 
part of the mishap. 

Leo did not, however, forget to secure the boar’s 
head and feet and a couple of the unfortunate 
little orphan pigs, which he put, alive and squeak- 
ing, into a bag on his back, falling thus into the 
rear, while hungry townsmen and peasants, who 
had been watching in the distance, went out to 
dispute over the remainder of the booty. 

Meantime, as the slow and melancholy march 


40 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


proceeded on the way, Attalus was replying to the 
chiefs inquiries as to the manner in which the 
accident had happened, the boy giving a true and 
generous account, as one who loved Leo and was 
glad to tell of his deeds. 

“Who is this Leo? ” asked Garfried. 

“ He is our cook ; the best and most dainty cook 
in Langres,” was the answer. 

“ A slave? ” 

“ Oh, yes, a slave, and so was his father before 
him.” 

“ Where is he? ” 

Leo was not to be seen in the immediate com- 
pany, and when the town and the Bishop’s abode 
were reached, the first cares of every one were 
bestowed upon the patient. Attalus had ridden 
on in advance to warn those at home, and a couch 
had been prepared in a quiet chamber opening 
out of the cloister, where Philetus stood, swelling 
with consequence, waiting to receive the sufferer. 
He was in great request, with Gilchrist still on his 
hands, and he liked acting as physician to the 
household far better than teaching his often re- 
fractory pupil. He puffed out his lips and talked 
wisely about Hippocrates and Galen, but he did 


GA R FRIED 'S GRA TITUDE. 


41 


what was most needful and cut Baldrik’s long hair 
from round the wound. It made him murmur 
something about being shorn, and Philetus unwill- 
ingly had to abstain from cutting away the mass 
of yellow locks, which would be a great incon- 
venience as he lay. 

Philetus augured that he would soon regain his 
senses, but that it would take some weeks to re- 
pair the fracture. The father, reassured, obeyed 
the invitation to supper, but asked on the way for 
Leo the cook, who had saved his son’s life. 

Attalus ran off to the kitchen, where he found 
his friend stooping over the choicest of his pigeon- 
holes. 

“ Leo, Leo, come ! the Count Garfried wants to 
see you.” 

“ A plague upon it,” muttered Leo, just raising 
his face, fiery red and black with cinders. “ Can’t 
he wait till I have finished stewing these dormice 
and washed my face ? ” 

Attalus insisted, and Leo called to his Gallic 
assistant, Rhys, who had the French aptitude for 
cookery, though it was not without a pang and a 
murmur that the mice were intrusted to him ; but 
Attalus dragged Leo away, and the tall Burgun- 


42 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


dian met him with, “ Good slave, thou hast saved 
my son’s life.” 

“ By God’s good mercy I was in time,” re- 
sponded Leo, bowing to the chief. 

“What can I do for thee? I would fain buy 
thy freedom from the Bishop and take thee with 
me to hold Burgundian lands.” 

Attalus could not but look with dismay at Leo. 
He did not like to lose his best playfellow. 

Leo made answer, “ Sir, I thank your great 
clemency, but I am not made to cultivate lands. 
It suits me better to remain as I am with my good 
master, though I thank the good Lord Garfried 
most heartily.” 

“The abject Roman!” cried Friedbald in his 
own language, “ to prefer bonds to freedom.” 

Leo understood and smiled. It was of no use 
to explain to the wild young chief that what he 
did prefer was civilized life and power of im- 
provement, for which his whole nature thirsted, 
under conditions of slavery which hardly pressed 
upon him with such a master as Bishop Gregory. 
He had saved from casual gifts nearly enough to 
buy his manumission when he thought good, and 
could set up a cookshop in the town with advan- 


GAR FRIED'S GRATITUDE . 43 

tage. There was little to tempt him in freedom 
among a semi-savage, semi-Christianized race in a 
state of constant warfare, where he, as a peaceful 
being, would simply meet with contempt, even if 
he were not murdered, for the rate of price for 
killing a Roman was much below that for killing 
one of Burgundian, Frank, or Gothic blood. So 
he refused the persuasions of Garfried, who was 
forced to end by assurances that he would find a 
friend and helper in any time of need. Leo bowed 
and thanked him, and promised to remember his 
goodness, and then Garfried handed him a token 
by which he might appeal — namely, a coin of the 
Emperor Constantius, much effaced, but still recog- 
nizable. He bade his son, Friedbald, look at it 
and remember it ; and Leo made a little hole in it 
and hung it round his neck with grateful thanks, 
for in those uncertain times a break-up of the 
Bishop’s household might make it well to be se- 
cure of an asylum. Then he was allowed to go 
back to his dormice. 

Wounds and blows were not such very uncom- 
mon disasters among the Burgundians as to cause 
much sensation, and Garfried soon saw that his 
son was in a fair way of recovery, and therefore 


44 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


desired to leave him at once in the home that was 
to be his forever. Poor little Baldrik, who had 
fully recovered his senses, was sad and down- 
hearted at being left alone and unable to move, 
but he bore the idea with the silent acquiescence 
of his sturdy uncomplaining race. His father was 
anxious that he should receive the tonsure and 
minor orders before he was left as a dedication 
and also, though he was unwilling to speak of it, 
as a protection. He was far from being able to 
walk, so that he was carried on his mattress by 
two Franks to the narthex or antechapel of the 
church, and there his golden locks were clipped, 
and the Bishop laid a hand upon him, praying that 
he might be accepted as a servant of God, but not 
conferring the grace of ordination on him. He thus 
was accepted as a reader, though he had yet to 
learn to read, but he would carry the sacred books. 

Friedbald was far more affected than any one 
else. To him it was the loss of a dear brother 
and playfellow, and he could not help sharing the 
Frank spirit of contempt for the unwarlike priest- 
hood, and thinking that Baldrik was condemned to 
be a coward, who would learn to read, and never 
handle a sword. 


GARFRIED'S GRATITUDE. 


45 


Friedbald was actually dashing away tears from 
his eyes as he saw his brother’s long locks fall 
beneath the shears, and when his father called 
him to mount, and he bent over the boy for an 
embrace. But Baldrik seemed still to be half 
stunned, and not thoroughly awake to all that 
was passing, and all to which he was pledged, and 
he lay inert, hardly roused by all that was going 
on round him, or the clatter of the horses’ hoofs 
as his father rode away. 

Philetus found him a far better patient than 
Gilchrist, who was restlessly eager to proceed with 
his pilgrimage, would not obey orders, and made 
attempts at walking and getting to church, which 
resulted in inflaming the wound and bringing on 
dangerous symptoms. If Philetus had to use most 
painful remedies, even cutting away the flesh, he 
would bear all in absolute silence and endurance, 
even rejoicing in suffering, as for his Master’s 
sake ; but to lie still and let it heal was more than 
he could bear, even though Philetus assured him 
that he would bring on gangrene and have to lose 
his foot. He seemed rather to like the notion of 
hopping to Rome on crutches and leaving his 
bones among the martyrs; and nothing in any 


46 the cook and the captive. 

way quieted him but Bishop Gregory telling him 
that the detention that seemed the hardest to him 
was the appointed cross that he had to bear, and 
that suffering or even death brought on by willful 
imprudence and disobedience could not be reck- 
oned as such a sacrifice as that of will. It might 
be suspected, too, that the cleanliness, discipline, 
and good order of the Romano-Gallic household 
were part of the penance, especially as he thought 
them worldly. He would much rather have been 
sleeping on dirty fern in a hovel he could not 
stand upright in, and living on porridge and pig- 
nuts, than lying on a comfortable couch, eating a 
good meal every day, and having Philetus and a 
slave daily coming to wash him, instead of only 
occasionally spending a night up to his neck in a 
loch, which reckoned as fast, not ablution. Bald- 
rik really set him an example of patience. The 
boy at first slept a good deal, and when better 
was content to lie still and try to learn to read. 
Attalus wanted to play games with him, such as 
dice or knucklebones, or a sort of nine-pins ; but 
to learn the rules of a sedentary game was quite 
as difficult and wearisome to him as the conquest 
of the alphabet — a terrible difficulty, for he never 


GA R FRIED 'S GRA T/TUDE. 


47 


could remember the difference between E and F, 
and O and Q, though he had them drawn with 
chalk on the floor and studied them at all inter- 
vals. It was with dismay that he discovered that 
Attalus knew a second alphabet and a second lan- 
guage. “Oh!” said Attalus, grandly, “I knew 
my Greek alpha beta when I was a mere infant, 
and you will have to learn it too unless you wish 
to remain a mere mass-priest, instead of being a 
bishop.” 

“Friedbald and the Burgunds will make one,” 
said Baldrik, serenely. 

“They cannot, if you have not the learning.” 

But what Baldrik liked best was to hear stories 
out of the “ Iliad ” and the “ Odyssey,” of Achilles’ 
wrath and Diomed’s expedition, though he was 
greatly shocked at the murder of sleeping men. 
“ A Burgund would never have done such a cow- 
ardly thing, nor even a Frank,” he declared. Hec- 
tor’s death, however, filled him with enthusiasm, 
and still more did he enjoy Ulysses’ adventures in 
Polyphemus’ cave. But he could not understand 
why Attalus was to be taught about false gods. 
“Thou dost not worship them still?” he said. 

“No, no, indeed; we have overturned their 


48 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

altars, and no one would be so foolish as to bow 
down there.” 

“And we have renounced Odin and Frey — I 
heard a Thuringer captive do so to whom my 
father stood sponsor — but we don’t learn lessons 
nor sing stories of them. My father was very 
angry when he found Friedbald and me listening 
to the song of Siegfried and the flame circle, and 
said such things were heathen. Yet thou learnest 
of thy people’s old gods.” 

It was a question far beyond Attalus. 


CHAPTER V. 


KING HILDEBERT’S HOSTAGES. 

Franks are coming!” A party of 
1 and women, Gallo- Roman artisans 
;fly, came hurrying into the clois- 
tered court with the tidings. “ Sporus saw their 
armor glinting through the forest!” 

“ Are the town gates closed ? ” asked Tetricus, 
who was the nearest at hand. 

“They are being closed,” cried many voices; 
“ and the Tribune Marcius is gone down to 
command.” 

“ He must take heed,” said Tetricus. “ If they 
come from King Hildebert we cannot exclude 
them; if from his enemies we must.” 

Tetricus went in search of his father, whom he 
met coming from the little chamber that served as 
his study. 

Gregory was the chief authority, civil as well 
as ecclesiastical, in Langres. The sons of Clovis 



49 


50 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

had divided his territory between them in a strange 
manner- — each taking different towns, with the 
country round, not all in one continuous territory, 
but all mixed up together, and each holding a 
share of Paris. In fact, the right to a town really 
meant the having a place to put to tribute, if not 
to pillage. There had been four brothers, Theu- 
deric, Hildebert, Hlodomir, and Hlother; but 
Hlodomir was dead, and his children, except 
Chlodoald (or Cloud), who had been made a 
monk, had been murdered by their uncles, and 
there had been fierce fighting over the new divis- 
ion. Langres belonged to Hildebert; and Greg- 
ory, in the name of the inhabitants, had made oath 
to pay him a yearly tribute, and to exclude the 
other kings. The old Roman walls were kept in 
repair, and were sufficient to protect against sud- 
den inroads of the F ranks, who had no means of 
besieging a fortified place. The actual govern- 
ment belonged to the Senator, with a few magis- 
trates, known by old Roman titles, under him. 
Gregory, well knowing that the Franks felt the 
impression of dignity and were awed by it into 
fair behavior, lost no time in having the hall ar- 
ranged for an interview, while Tetricus went out 


KING IIILDEBER T 'S HOSTAGES. 


51 

to the gates to add judgment to the action of the 
Tribune. 

Between twenty and thirty armed Franks, 
mostly carrying the ax which took its name from 
them, and the chiefs wearing spiked helmets, rode 
up to the gate, and the foremost demanded en- 
trance. “ Open the gate, ye Gallic slaves, or it 
shall be the worse for you ! ” 

“ In whose name? ” asked Tetricus. 

“ What matters that to thee, thou priest?” 
shouted the leader. 

“ It matters little to me, but to thee it matters; 
since if thou comest not with authority, the gates 
remain shut,” answered Tetricus, who had meas- 
ured the numbers with his eye, and saw that if 
this were a mere raid of their own they would not 
be able to effect an entrance. 

“ In the name of Hildebert, King of the West- 
ern Franks,” thundered the leader, “ who com- 
mands his Roman tributaries to give his free men 
entrance.” 

With a sigh that the great name of Roman had 
fallen so low, Tetricus still refused to admit more 
than the leader, Wolfram, and three of his follow- 
ers; and as the gates were strong, and guarded 


52 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

within and without with heavy brass, he was able 
to carry this out, letting the four favored ones in 
one by one, and at the same time sending out 
skins and jars of wine and of cider, which were to 
be followed by all the food that could be hastily 
got together, to regale the rest of the warriors 
and keep them from turning their attention to 
mischief. 

The tall figure of Wolfram stalked along in 
shining pointed helmet, leathern coat guarded 
with brass plates, leathern buskins, kite-shaped 
shield rudely painted with the semblance of a 
wild boar, sword beside him, and ax over his 
shoulder — a contrast to the slender, black-robed 
Tetricus, whom, however, he regarded with a cer- 
tain contemptuous awe, as a witch might be 
looked on. It was easy to see that he was only 
so far a Christian as the ax of Clovis had com- 
pelled him to baptism, but that he had a myste- 
rious dread of the priesthood as well as of Roman 
civilization. 

Fully aware of this, Gregory had been prepar- 
ing an imposing spectacle in the hall. He had 
robed himself so as to show at once that he was 
Bishop and Senator. Over his long white woolen 


KING HILDEBERT'S HOSTAGES. 53 

garment he wore the toga, which had dwindled to 
a white scarf edged with purple, and over that 
again a rich crimson gold-bordered mantle. His 
miter was on his head, his pastoral staff — fashioned 
like a sheep-hook — was held in one hand, the 
ivory staff of a senator in the other, and he sat on 
the ivory-inlaid curule chair at the arched cir- 
cular end of the hall of justice, an embodiment 
of dignity, with all his train of priests, dea- 
cons, subdeacons, and readers drawn up behind 
him, as well as a few of the civil officers of the 
town. 

Wolfram was evidently half disconcerted at the 
first moment at the sight of the Bishop in the great 
arched basilica, but he put a bold face upon it, 
and tramped on, while Gregory, though he would 
not meet this invader at the entrance as he had 
met his friend Garfried, touched the silver cup of 
greeting with his lips, and sent it by the hand of 
his chief attendant to be served to the Frank. 

Wolfram stood still. “ I drink not till I have 
performed my king’s commands,” he said. 

Gregory expected some terrible exaction as he 
said, “ Speak on.” 

“The King of the Western Franks, King Hil- 


54 THE cook and the captive. 

debert, son of Clovis , 1 sends his commands to his 
tributary, Bishop Gregory, and does him to wit 
that the war with his nephew Theudebert, King 
of the Eastern Franks and Burgunds, being over, 
they two have bound themselves by a treaty of 
peace to deliver pledges on either side, each to 
each ; and King Hildebert therefore calls on you, 
as in duty bound, to deliver up to him your young 
grandson, to be made a hostage to King Theude- 
bert for his peaceful behavior and for the sur- 
render of the cities of Nasium and Tullium into 
his hands.’ ’ 

“ My grandson!” repeated Gregory, in distress. 

“Yea! Where is he? He is to be in King 
Theudebert’s safe-keeping, together with other 
nobly born, until such time as the cities be re- 
stored to him by King Hildebert.” 

“ My grandson belongs to the Roman Empire,” 
said Gregory, with little hope, but doing all in his 
power to save Attalus from such a fate. 

“ Then let your Roman Empire look to him if 
it can,” sneered Wolfram, gaining more assurance. 

“What have we to do with quarrels of your 
Hildeberts and Theudeberts? ” cried Tetricus, 
1 He said Hlodowig, the same as Louis. 


KING IIILDEBER T'S HOSTAGES. 55 

waxing angry, perhaps rash. “ Why takes he 
not one of his own nobles? ” 

“ That is known to the kings themselves, thou 
shaven priest,” said Wolfram, contemptuously. 

“ And what if I refuse to let my grandson be 
taken to be hostage in a quarrel wherewith I have 
no concern ? ” 

“ Then,” said the Frank, swinging his ax from 
his shoulder, “ the Kings Hildebert and Theude- 
bert will wreak their just wrath on yonder miser- 
able serfs of farmers and the like, for the disobe- 
dience and presumption of one who should have 
taught them better.” 

It was a fearful threat, for Gregory had no 
means of shielding the unhappy Gallic peasants 
who dwelt between Langres and Autun, and who 
under his government had been thriving with 
cattle and crops. Wolfram spoke, however, more 
placably. “ Come, Herr Bishop, since such they 
call thee, best let the boy go peaceably — Tullium 
and Nasium will soon be made over, and thou wilt 
have him back, taught to ride and handle an ax 
like a Frank, instead of a puling Roman! Ha! 
youngling,” turning toward Attalus and Baldrik, 
who both stood by the Bishop, the latter leaning 


56 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 

on a stout stick, “ wilt come and see a Frankish 
burg? Thou art a likely fellow, ” and he fixed his 
eyes on Baldrik. 

" I know a Frank burg well enough,” he an- 
swered. 

“ Ha ! That’s no Roman tongue ! What art 
thou?” 

“ I am Baldrik, son of Garfried of the Blue 
Sword,” answered the boy, before any one could 
prevent him from speaking out. 

“ He is surrendered to my keeping by his 
father, and has, as thou seest, already received 
minor orders,” Gregory hastened to say, for he 
saw the Frank’s eyes glisten at the thought of the 
prey so near him. 

“ A shaveling, eh ! That’s soon outgrown. 
Hark you, Herr Bishop, let me take yonder 
Baldrik youngster with me, then will I leave thy 
dainty grandson.” 

Both boys looked up imploringly — Attalus in 
longing to stay, Baldrik with hope to be restored 
to the free life he loved, instead of remaining in 
the cramped clerical and civilized household which 
with returning health he began to loathe; but 
Gregory shook his head. “ Nay, good Herr Wolf- 


KING HILDEBEK T'S HOSTAGES. 


57 


ram, that may not be. The boy Baldrik was com- 
mitted to me as a sacred trust by his father, and I 
may not let him go out of my hands.” 

“Sir,” Baldrik put himself forward, “I would 
be glad to go. Thou hast been very good to me, 
but my leg is well, and I would fain be among 
bold men and spears and axes once more, and 
Attalus would never endure the life.” 

“ Thou knowest not what thou askest, my 
child,” said Gregory. “Thou art my charge and 
that of the Church, committed to my trust by thy 
father. I were guilty and forsworn to part with 
thee.” 

“ Then I take this one,” said Wolfram, stepping 
toward the boys, and laying his hand on Attalus’s 
shoulder with a grip that made the little fellow 
shrink and cry out, “ O grandfather!” 

“ If it must be so there is no help for it, so thou 
wilt spare my peasants and my townsmen. Thou 
wilt swear that he will be restored so soon as Tul- 
lium and Nasium are in possession of King Theu- 
debert? ” 

Wolfram made no difficulty about taking the 
oath. If it were kept the detention would be 
short; but whether the towns would be given up 


58 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

was, in the first place, doubtful, and then the good 
faith of Theudebert ; so it was with a failing heart 
that good Bishop Gregory consented, knowing 
that the young Roman nobles were selected as 
the more worthless hostages, in preference to the 
sons of Frank counts. Yet to yield the child was 
the only means of preventing his poor, outside the 
walls, from being ravaged, or the city from being 
put to tribute, besieged and starved in revenge for 
his disobedience; nor could he permit his flock 
thus to suffer, any more than he could yield up 
Garfried’s son to his enemies. He could only 
give what was his own, much as it cost him to 
part from his beloved grandson, and to send him 
to unknown suffering and danger, as well as to 
break off his education and expose him not only 
to hardship, but to companionship that might 
affect the whole course of his life. 

It rent the old man’s heart, but he was reso- 
lute. He invited the guests to stay all night, but 
Wolfram would not hear of it. It was scarcely 
noontide, and all he would do was to accept a 
banquet which Leo was hastily preparing. 

After drinking the guest-cup with him, Gregory 
prayed to be excused, and that Tetricus and 


KING II I LDEBER T'S HOSTAGES. 


59 


Laurentius, the Consul, might be allowed to en- 
tertain them, while he prepared Attalus for the 
journey. 

He took the boy with him into the antechapel. 
Attalus was weeping, and when he said, “ My 
poor child!” exclaimed, “0 Sir Father, Baldrik 
would be glad to go.” 

“ True, my son ; but I have given my word to 
his father. He is not mine, nor have I a right 
over him.” 

Then with earnest words and tears Gregory 
entreated the boy to bear his duty to God in 
mind, to say his prayers, to keep from all evil, 
and bear insults and hardships patiently. At 
Treves, or wherever the court of Theudebert 
might be, he was sure to find a church and clergy, 
who would be friendly to him for his grandfather’s 
sake, and he was to seek them out and follow 
their counsel. Gregory would do all that was 
possible to obtain his return, and with him were 
to go Gola, the old Moorish slave who had always 
been as a nurse to him, and would take charge of 
his clothes, and the younger Festus, who had the 
care of his mule. 

So Gregory, hiding his tears, delivered the 


6o 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


weeping boy up to Wolfram, who made oath, in 
the name of his master, that he should duly be re- 
stored, sound and unhurt. 

All the household came out to see him start, 
the clergy of all ranks standing up with folded 
hands, while Bishop Gregory, choked with emo- 
tion, gave his solemn blessing; all the slaves, 
many of them weeping, for Attalus had been the 
pet of the house in spite of many a prank ; Leo, 
still black with charcoal, with tears running down 
his face, loaded Festus with provisions and put a 
honey-cake into Attalus’s hand, and last of all, 
Gilchrist stumbled forth on his knees and cried, 
“ God be with the boy ! Remember holy Pat- 
rick's breastplate." 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE COUNCIL AT SOISSONS. 

S far as Soissons, or Noviodunum as he 
had learned to call it, Attalus did not 
fare ill. Wolfram and his men took 
little notice of him, and the two slaves kept near 
him. At night Wolfram called a halt near the 
edge of a great wood, where he sent his men to 
collect sticks so as to make a fire to keep off the 
wolves that might be in the neighborhood, and 
struck a light with a flint brought from the chalk 
country on the Seine. Some rabbits and par- 
tridges had been shot with arrows or pulled down 
by the dogs on the way, and these served for the 
food of the escort, with some wine which the 
Franks had required of the Langres people; and 
they sat carousing and shouting or singing over it, 
paying hardly any attention to their hostage, after 
Wolfram had shouted to him to lie down there, 
pointing to a great beech-tree, and not to stray 
farther. 



61 


62 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


Gola was in despair at his young master hav- 
ing to sleep out-of-doors, but Attalus somewhat 
haughtily told him that it was the duty of a 
Roman soldier. They had no lack of food, bread, 
smoked fish, cheese, dried grapes, and an earthen- 
ware bottle of wine ; and the bed of beech leaves, 
raked together by Festus, was comfortable, so 
that after lying awake a little while, looking up at 
the sky through the branches, and wondering what 
his fate would be, Attalus went to sleep, and did 
not wake till the camp was astir. 

Again the troop went on, and in due time they 
reached Soissons, an old Roman town, where the 
fortifications still stood, and in the midst was the 
forum, or market-place, and the theater, open to 
the sky and surrounded with galleries of seats. 
Large Roman houses, and small dens built on to 
their sides, stood all round. It had been made 
the capital of the Meerwing kings, and at this 
moment the helmets of Hildebert’s men glanced 
within the open space of the forum, those of Theu- 
debert in the theater. The kings themselves 
lodged in the houses of the propretor and the 
legionary, for Noviodunum had been a grand old 
Roman town. It had a fine old church, once a 


THE COUNCIL AT SOI SCO NS. 


63 


basilica or hall of justice, and a train of priests and 
clergy was passing into it, a sight which made 
Attalus feel as if he had come to friends. 

He was driven on, however, to the Roman 
house, where the once beautiful, paved court was 
full of rude Franks, sitting on the ground, their 
horses tethered round them. They were feasting 
on the remnants of the meal that the chiefs had 
been eating within, sitting in groups, some gnaw- 
ing bones, some, a little more dainty, grilling them 
over the fires that they had lighted on the ground 
with fragments of the once fine old wood-work, 
others drinking out of their helmets; all laughing, 
shouting, or bickering at the top of their voices, 
except one party, who sat listening to a harper 
chanting a lay of ancient heroism and bloodshed. 
Through all these various parties Wolfram made 
his way to the hall of the palace, where, under the 
fine old arches and mosaic ceiling, on the rich in- 
laid pavement, the table was spread, and the two 
long-haired kings, Hildebert and Theudebert, and 
their chiefs were carousing together out of finely 
chased silver cups, while the rude relics of their 
feast lay on the tables around. 

The kings were uncle and nephew, but there 


64 THE cook and the captive. 

was not much difference in their ages. They both 
looked harsh and rugged, but Hildebert, whom 
Attalus had seen once or twice before, looked 
somewhat the more civilized, or it might be only 
that his hair and beard were less rough, and his 
dress nearer the Roman than that of Theudebert, 
who was very sunburned, and save for his rich 
sword-belt and the jeweled chain at his neck 
might have been taken for a mere hunter. Their 
chiefs were with them, and Bishop Silius, whom 
Attalus knew already and looked to with hope; 
but the Bishop was a timid man, and looked 
very uncomfortable at Theudebert’s right hand. 
Garfried, for whom the poor boy looked, was not 
there. 

“ Ha! Wolfram,” cried the King, “ hast brought 
the hostage ? ” 

“ Ay, Herr King, I have brought the priest’s 
darling, here, petted up like a lady’s tame fawn. 
The old Bishop made no small ado at parting from 
him. Sent mule and slaves with him, forsooth.” 

“ He’ll set high store by him, nephew,” said 
Hildebert, laughing. “ Thou wilt make a good 
profit of thy pledge, even if it be not convenient 
to me to part with the cities.” 




BISHOP SI LI US TAKES CHARGE OF A TTAL US. 


P- 65 



THE COUNCIL AT SOI S SO NS. 65 

“ It skills me not to barter and bargain,” replied 
Theudebert, carelessly. “ Take him, Hunderik, 
keep him safe, and we will do the best we can 
with him.” 

“ Trust me, Herr King, I will see to the little 
Roman rogue like a fresh-caught foal.” 

The epithet was not given tenderly, or it might 
have been hopeful. However, the Bishop held 
out his hand to Attalus, and presently ventured 
to ask whether he might not have the guardian- 
ship of the young hostage ; but this was received 
with a burst of rude laughter, and a declaration 
that he was too much of the same sort as the old 
man at Langres, and would quickly know how to 
let the child slip through his fingers. However, 
they allowed him to take Attalus home with him 
for the night, Hunderik fiercely telling him that 
he should be held accountable for the production 
of the pledge the next morning. 

“ See, Bishop Silius, if that’s what they call 
thee! thou claimest to be a shepherd, as they tell 
me. Herd this same sheep of mine to the best of 
thy power, for if thou lettest him go, thy Church 
and thy priests shall aby it.” 

Attalus had never heard such uncivil language 


66 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


addressed to his grandfather; but Bishop Silius 
was a timid, though a very kind man, and had 
never inspired respect in the wild Franks, who 
had only become nominal Christians at the will of 
Clovis. He hurried out of the theater and along 
the street, holding the hand of Attalus, evidently 
in dread of the scoffs and laughter that broke out 
at the coward priest. “ Like an old ewe and hei 
lamb,” cried one rude voice, raising a storm of 
mocking voices. 

“ Oh, my lamb, my lamb, would that I could 
keep you ! ” he cried ; and no sooner was he with- 
in the shelter of his own house than he drew the 
boy into his arms, and wept over him profusely as 
the lamb thrown to the wolves. How could his 
holy brother Gregory consent ? 

“ It was the only way to save the peasants or 
the town from being sacked,” said Attalus. 

“Ah! thou art the lamb indeed, the victim,” 
exclaimed Silius. “ Would that there were means 
of saving thee from these pagans, who know not 
God and will make thee forget Him.” 

“God will not forget me,” dreamily answered 
Attalus. 

“ Good child ! Ah ! it is foul sin and shame to 


THE COUNCIL AT SOISSONS. 67 

let him go among the heathen, and be beaten and 
foully used. Yet that ferocious robber will re- 
quire him of me, and it will go ill with us if we 
hide him or keep him back.” 

“ See here, your Holiness,” said one of the 
Bishop’s train, a dark, sinister-looking subdeacon, 
not young, “ there is a child here very like the 
noble Attalus — a slave lad, the son of the de- 
ceased slave woman Retia. He has the same 
dark eyes and light hair, he is quick-witted, and 
is clever in waiting at your Holiness’s tables. 
Change the dress, and none of those Franks, who 
were all half drunk last night, would know the 
difference. Then, when these two kings and 
their rabble followers have left the city, it will be 
easy to pass the young patrician back to Langres 
or Autun.” 

“ It is a risk,” said one of the priests, thought- 
fully. ” Yet Retius is quick-witted and would 
support the part, and as long as they found him 
not out, he would be better off there than as a 
slave here.” 

" Or even if they discovered him, they would 
do him no harm,” continued the subdeacon Ter- 
givus. “ Let this noble boy lie quiet and out of 


68 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


sight here till all are well away, then could we pass 
him home to his Clemency of Langres by the time 
all was forgotten.” 

“ But,” said Attalus, looking in utter surprise 
from one to the other, “ my grandfather would 
not have me if I ran away and broke the terms.” 

“ Nay, child, I said not that thou shouldst go 
back at once, when peril could come ; wait here 
— or, as a safer place, at Tours — till the bargain is 
forgotten.” 

Attalus shook his head. “The Frank Wolfram 
offered to take the son of Garfried of the Blue 
Sword instead of me, and my grandfather would 
not, because Baldrik had been committed to his 
trust.” 

“ That might have brought danger on him 
through the vengeance of him of the Blue Sword,” 
observed Tergivus; “ but this is a mere worthless 
slave, after whom none will inquire.” 

“ My grandfather holds a slave of full worth,” 
cried Attalus, hotly. 

“ Thy grandfather is a saint,” interposed Bishop 
Silius. “ Deem not that we would ask thee to do 
aught that he would hold as evil ; yet it is per- 
mitted to dissemble with the unbeliever, and we 


THE COUNCIL AT SOI S SO NS. 69 

would fain save thee from pollution and hardship 
such as he would dread for thee.” 

“ He would not have me act treacherously, nor 
send another into my own danger,” cried Attalus. 

“ The boy will not,” whispered Tergivus. “ No 
doubt he likes the freedom of the Frank better 
than his books.” 

This was very sore to Attalus, just as he had 
begun to feel that he was doing something brave 
and true, of which his grandfather and uncle would 
approve. Bred up by such men as Gregory and 
Tetricus, he little knew the artful spirit which 
oppression had engendered among the Gallo- 
Romans, and he shrank back from Silius when 
beckoned up to him. 

“ Do not persuade me to be mean,” was on his 
tongue. 

“ My son, Heaven forbid that I should persuade 
thee to what thy good and holy grandfather would 
forbid. It was only that my good friends would 
spare thee, yea, and him, from ills thou dost not 
guess at. When — if — thou seest him again, let 
him know that the device was not mine, and I 
only might have consented in the hope of saving 
thee, my fair lad, the jewel of his old age.” 


7o 


TIIE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


“ God can save me,” said Attalus. 

“ Christ in the fort, 

Christ in the field.” 

There was a strange bright gleam on the boy’s 
face and uplifted eyes as that sense of confidence 
came home to him. 

Silius bowed his head and wept. It might be 
for the child who knew not what he was about to 
encounter, or it might be for those loftier, purer 
thoughts which had become obscured in him by 
the long and weary course of striving to bend with 
the storm and avoid oppression. 


CHAPTER VII. 


ATTALUS LEFT ALONE. 

T quiet night in Silius’s household 
s the last peaceful one that Attalus 
s to enjoy for many a month. It 
was still early morning, and the first hymns of 
the day were being sung in the church attached 
as usual to the Bishop’s dwelling, when there was 
a thundering at the door and shouts for the little 
dog of a Roman. 

He durst not wait for anything but Silius’s 
hasty blessing and murmur of “ God help thee, 
good and high-souled child, and bring thee back 
to thy grandfather!” 

The Bishop was too much in dread of the wild 
Franks willingly to show himself, but Tergivus 
would have led the boy forth. Attalus, however, 
put his hands behind his back, marched forth, and 
solemnly said, “ I give myself as King Hildebert’s 
hostage, of mine own free will and by the desire 
of my grandfather, Bishop Gregory,” 

7 * 



72 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

Nobody particularly attended to him, and as he 
spoke Gaulish Latin the Franks would not have 
understood him if they had, but it gave him a 
certain feeling of being like Regulus, whose story 
he told to old Gola walking beside his mule. 

Perhaps it was well that he should have such 
consolation, as they went through moors that grew 
wider and with less and less token of habitation, 
though still with the straight Roman way to guide 
them. He asked for Festus, and Gola answered 
that he had been claimed by a shaggy Frank, 
who told King Hildebert that he wanted a groom 
to tend his horses Roman fashion. The poor fel- 
low had wept, and declared that he belonged to 
Bishop Gregory ; but was only laughed at and told 
that the Bishop was no better than a bondsman 
himself, and so he was beaten and driven away. 

Then, when there was a halt, and Gola was pro- 
ducing the wallet of provisions which Silius’s pity- 
ing household had replenished, a great rude voice 
shouted out something about seeing what the 
gluttonous little Roman was swallowing, and a big 
hand clutched the bag away, leaving Attalus and 
Gola nothing but the dry morsels of bread remain- 
ing from their original store. Hot tears rose to 


ATT ALUS LEFT ALONE. 


73 


the boy’s eyes, and he would have cried out against 
the spoiler, but Gola held him fast, with a sign to 
hold his peace, and he recollected that to break 
out at that fierce-looking man might be dangerous. 
He never saw the wallet again, except hanging as 
a pouch at the girdle of the Frank. Gola, how- 
ever, contrived at night to get a lump of half-raw 
goat’s flesh for supper, which he was hungry 
enough to devour down to the very bone. But 
worse still was to come. Gola had wrapped him 
up and laid him down to sleep under a tree, with 
the mule tethered near; but when the sound of 
horns and the confusion of voices awoke him, the 
mule was gone. Gola was out of sight too, but 
presently, on his frightened call, came back to 
him. 

“ Ah! poor Jugurtha,” he said, with tears in his 
eyes ; “ his halter has been cut and he has been 
carried off by that malicious young heathen. I 
followed, but he laughed at me. Alas ! what will 
become of him? ” 

“ He is mine ! ” cried Attalus. “ Am I to be 
robbed as well as kept a prisoner? I will appeal 
to Hunderik.” 

That was not so easy, however, for Hunderik’s 


74 THE cook and the captive. 

winged helmet was to be seen in the midst of sev- 
eral others, the spears bristling beside them and 
their armor jingling and shining in the sun, and 
they rode on so fast that poor Attalus, on foot, 
had not a chance of overtaking them. It was a 
hard matter to him to get through that day’s jour- 
ney, with very little food, and that of the roughest, 
coarsest kind, thrown to him with laughs of scorn ; 
and when his feet, unused to such walking over 
rocks and thorns, lagged behind, there was a cry 
of “Ho! pledge, wouldst escape?” and one of 
the men threatened to beat him or goad him 
forward. 

That night they reached Treves, Augusta Tre- 
virorum as it was called, a considerable city, with a 
fine triumphal arch and many Roman buildings. 
Hunderik did not care to sleep within the walls, 
but went to dine there on the good fare of the 
cooks, and some of the inhabitants came out to 
see whether the Franks had anything to barter 
with them for provisions. One was a Jew who 
had fine armor to dispose of, a beautiful sword in- 
laid by the Greeks of Constantinople, and a breast- 
plate both strong and light. He described it, but 
he had been prudent enough to leave it in the 


ATT ALUS LEFT ALONE. 


75 


city, and Hunderik’s own sword was dented and 
injured at the point, his breastplate sorely battered. 
What would the Jew take for his ware ? Here was 
his chain of gold. No, that was not worth a 
quarter of the sword’s value, for half the links 
were gone. A dozen of kine which he would 
send down from the hills? The Jew was too 
wary to trust to promises. At last, after refusing 
several such offers, he cast his eyes on Gola. 
That slave would make up the balance. 

“ He is mine,” shouted Attalus. 

“ I am my Lord Bishop Gregory’s,” exclaimed 
Gola. “ He sent me in charge of his grandson, 
whom I have tended from his infancy.” 

“ Slave tending a slave,” said Hunderik, with a 
sneer. 

“ He is full old,” said the Jew, approaching to 
handle his arms and legs, as was the custom of 
slave-dealers. Attalus threw himself between, 
crying out, “ He is mine! he is mine! You shall 
not touch him.” 

“What insolence is this?” and with his heavy 
hand Hunderik knocked the boy down, so that he 
lay unconscious for some minutes; and when, 
dazed and bewildered, he opened his eyes and sat 


76 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 

up, Gola, Hunderik, and the Jew were all gone. 
The Jew, perhaps, saw his way to selling the poor 
old Moor again to his true master, and thus mak- 
ing a considerable profit out of his bargain ; and 
while Gola was weeping and bending over his 
young charge, two great Franks bound his hands 
and arms and dragged him off, with kicks and 
blows, under charge of the Jew, laughing and 
mocking aloud as he wept, bewailed, and im- 
plored in a language they could not understand. 

Poor little Attalus ! his desolation was complete. 
He sat crouched upon the ground, trying not 
to weep and provoke the mirth of the rude war- 
riors who passed by him, and whose jeers he hap- 
pily did not understand. How much he had 
really loved old Gola as well as depended on his 
care he did not know till he had thus lost him and 
with no knowledge of his future. It was late in 
the day, and there was no one to go out and 
forage for his supper, and he was too miserable 
and frightened to do it for himself; but he sat 
there, in the same sad posture, sometimes sobbing 
quietly to himself, sometimes murmuring a prayer 
that God would take care of him, till it had grown 
dark, and at last slumber overpowered him — the 


ATT ALUS LEFT ALONE. 


77 

first time he could remember going to sleep with- 
out Gola’s tender care of him. 

He was wakened by the horns and the stir 
among the troop, and he stood up, aching, weary, 
and too faint and exhausted even to feel hungry, 
so that he tottered when he began to move, and 
he felt a moment’s hope that if he sank down, was 
forgotten, and left behind he might creep back 
into Treves, where there were plenty of Roman 
clergy, and perhaps find Gola once more. But he 
was disappointed. He was too valuable thus to 
be neglected, and presently he heard Hunderik 
saying what he knew too well meant, “ Where’s 
the little dog of a hostage? Ha! limping like a 
sickly calf. Take him up before you on your 
horse, one of you.” 

So Attalus found himself astride the neck of 
one of the great lumbering war-horses of the 
Franks, as wretchedly uncomfortable a perch as 
could be conceived, though he did not fall off, and 
was carried along, belted to the horseman, as a 
miserable forlorn piece of baggage for whose relief 
or ease the rider cared not in the least. How- 
ever, it was important to keep him alive, and thus, 
when at the halting-place on the border of a forest 


78 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

he was found to have swooned quite away and 
was lifted down unconscious, he was shaken hard 
by way of restoration, and when he opened his 
eyes a wine-cup was held to his lips. He turned 
away his head, but heard, “ Ho ! ho ! bring the 
horn.” The notion of being drenched like a horse 
waked the boy thoroughly; he swallowed the 
draught, a long one, and then found himself re- 
vived enough to eat a bit of the toughest of flesh, 
half raw, half dry, and without bread or salt, but 
he was famished enough to swallow anything, and 
when lifted on horseback again he actually slept 
in a manner, though conscious all the time of the 
painful jar of the horse’s tramp, the tight belt round 
him, and the roughness of the leathern garment 
against which his head hung rather than rested. 

How he got through those last few days he 
could never tell — they were all like one long and 
horrid dream, in which he seemed to have been 
going on forever, bound fast on the rack of the 
rude saddle, with the tramp of the horse ever jar- 
ring through him ; and he was past all curiosity as 
to what was to come next — it seemed as if there 
never would be any end, though latterly he began 
to be dimly conscious that the horse was mounting 


ATTALUS LEFT ALONE. 


79 


more slowly up a hill, and that there was forest 
ground all round, the tops of trees making a dark- 
ness. At last there was a halt, the belt that cut 
into him was unstrapped, he was lifted down, and 
when it proved that he could not stand he was 
picked up in those same rude arms and carried 
into some kind of dark shelter, where there was a 
strange buzz of rough and shrill voices mingled 
together, and the light of a red flickering fire 
flashed out. 

Something he heard in Hunderik’s always alarm- 
ing voice about a miserable little feeble mouse of 
a Roman hostage, who must nevertheless be kept 
alive and safe, for he might be worth something 
to them ; but he was past understanding it, and 
had little perception of anything but being brought 
into warmth, laid down upon something soft and 
strange, and presently a woman's voice saying 
some word that probably meant “ drink," for a 
vessel of something very hot and like broth was 
held before him, while a woman’s arm raised him, 
and a woman’s great knotted hand put a spoon to 
his lips. 

“ Wretched little weakling ! Thou hast nearly 


been the death of him." 


8o 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


“ No, no, Frau. Even a bishop’s lambkin is not 
so frail as that.” 

So much Attalus heard and half understood, 
while the very greasy soup went down his throat, 
followed by a dose of warm sour milk ; and he was 
dimly sensible of figures carousing round a long 
table, of firelight, of female forms flitting about 
waiting on the men, and of the light glancing now 
and then on bushes of hair as fair and flaxen as 
that of Baldrik before it was shaven ; of pitying, 
wondering, girlish voices now and then ; but 
women and girls were strange unwonted creatures 
to the Bishop’s grandson, who did not remember 
his own parents, and had come to the household 
after the old man had ceased to be a senator and 
had become a priest. Gola was the only nurse 
he could remember, and sorely he missed him 
now, in the long feverish, exhausted state in which 
he lay before sleep at last gave a respite to his 


woes. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


HUNDERIK AT HOME. 

HEN Attalus awoke there was morning 
light in the place, but it was for the 
most part in twilight, only that spots 
of red sometimes came in here and there, and 
played upon what he now saw to be the rude 
beams, or rather trees, of an open pointed roof of 
reed and heather. He was lying on a heap of 
fern and heather, but he felt dreadfully stiff and 
sore, and as recollection came back to him he was 
afraid to move, even if he could have done so 
without pain, for fear of bringing some of his tor- 
mentors on him, or waking the terrible-looking 
wolf-hounds with rough dun hair and long noses 
that lay slumbering by the still smoldering rem- 
nant of the wood and peat fire, where a little red 
light glowed among the ashes. 

The odd noises that he heard were, he perceived, 
the snores of the men, who had flung themselves 
down to sleep as he had done. It was a curious 
81 



82 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


place in the eyes of Attalus, who had always lived 
in handsome, well-built Roman houses, with courts 
in the middle, with well-paved apartments for 
giving audience, for eating, living, and sleeping, 
disposed round them, and baths adjoining, with 
hot and cold water laid on. True, they were of 
only one story, and had no glass windows, but 
they were well furnished according to the notions 
of the time, and had carved bedsteads, like sofas, 
in the little sleeping- rooms, and in the others 
tables, chairs, and couches, and a whole library of 
books, rolls of vellum, which Attalus had once re- 
garded as his enemies, but which he now began to 
miss. He had been amused at Baldrik's wonder 
at these civilized appurtenances, and he was now 
to be amazed at the lack of them. The house 
was high and large, the elevation being in fact up 
to the height that a sufficient number of trees 
could attain, their trunks being set close together, 
and the interstices stuffed with clay, reeds, and 
heather. The span of the roof was the same, as 
far as could be safely supported by rafters of tall 
pine-trees, with beams extending across below 
them. The roof was fairly weather-tight, but 
open in the middle over the hearth, whose odors 


HUNDERIK AT HOME . 


83 


of wood and peat smoke still filled the edifice. 
There were no windows, but the two ends had 
wide and open doorways, and there was a wide 
space down the middle, the sides being divided 
off by wooden structures that put Attalus in mind 
of the stalls of horses, only that these were closed 
in at the top ; and far away, near the farther en- 
trance, he heard the stamp of horses, and lifting 
up his head perceived that they were tied up in 
rows at that end. A cock, whose crow had first 
wakened him, gave another summons, and was 
seen to be perched on one of the beams overhead, 
with all his family round him; and there were 
other gruntings and bleatings which showed that 
there was a considerable live stock all awake. 

All this he perceived gradually while still half 
awake and coming to a full recollection of his sit- 
uation, which was certainly as sad — not perhaps 
as possible, since there was the hope of deliver- 
ance when the cities should be surrendered, and 
his grandfather would do all that could be done 
for his recovery ; but all was as dark and dreary 
as could be imagined when he came to think it 
over, as he had never had time or space to do 
since Hunderik had carried him off. 


84 THE cook and the captive. 

At last, however, he had time to realize that, 
though his grandfather and uncle, and even poor 
Gola, were so far away, and did not even know 
where he was, there was an Almighty All-seeing 
Protector ever close to him, and that he might 
trust to be defended. He said his prayers, and 
ended with “ St. Patrick’s Breastplate,” kneeling on 
his heap of ferns, but still so stiff and aching that 
he dropped down again, very glad to rest. Just 
then some of the women began to appear from 
their great boxes, which he now perceived to be 
beds — almost amounting to the separate cells of a 
monastery, or what would now be called cubicles, 
except that conveniences for the toilet were alto- 
gether lacking. 

The washing, as he found later, for those who 
esteemed such practices, was done at a spring at 
a little distance from the dwelling on the mount- 
ain-side, and such attention to the hair as ever 
was paid was an amusement for the leisure hours 
of the day. A comb was a great possession, only 
belonging to the wife of the lord of the settlement. 

Presently, as he still lay on his heap of ferns, 
too stiff and tired willingly to move, three chil- 
dren came toward him, two little girls with bright 


HUNDERIK AT HOME. 


85 


hair, about his own age, and a younger boy. He 
thought he heard them say, “ Come and look at 
the new pledge boy,” but he could not be sure of 
their language, though he knew well enough when 
the boy called out, “Give! give!” and snatched 
at the golden bulla on Attalus’s neck. The chain 
was welded on, and it would not come off, though 
his hard pull hurt severely, and Attalus with a cry 
tried to push him away, upon which he roared. 

Two or three women rushed up, and one, whose 
gold necklace and armlets showed her to be Hun- 
derik’s wife, struck Attalus a sharp blow, while 
the child continued to tug at the gold medallion 
as if he would cut the poor boy’s throat. There 
were loud exclamations all round, and it ended in 
Frau Bernhild producing a great pair of shears 
with which she severed the chain, when her boy 
Hundbert bore it off in triumph, and Attalus was 
left smarting under the deep wale it had made in 
his neck, and trying not to cry, but feeling as if 
he had lost his rank and had been made a slave 
outright. 

The lady spurned him for a moment with her 
foot, muttering something that he knew well to be 
“Little slave!” but he was too worn out and de- 


86 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


jected to show anger. One of the little girls who 
stood by gazing at him said, “ Don’t cry, boy,” 
and the other, “ Was it a charm ? ” 

“ It showed my rank as a Roman,” said Attalus, 
trying to put this into her language. 

“ Hundbert will weary of it and throw it aside,” 
suggested the elder of the girls ; “ I will try to get 
it again for you.” 

“ But if mother gets it you will never have it,” 
said her sister. “ Was it gold? ” 

“ It was. All Roman boys have golden bullas,” 
said Attalus. 

“ Come and have some milk,” said the elder one, 
in a consoling voice ; “ Bruna is just bringing it.” 

This was a refreshing idea, and Attalus rose 
slowly and with pain, and let the little maid take 
his hand. Two such creatures were entirely new 
to him ; he had never spoken to a girl in his life, 
excepting to a beggar at his grandfather’s gate ; 
but no one since he had been in Hunderik’s charge 
had till now said a kind word to him, and he could 
not help looking gratefully up in the fair pink-and- 
white face full of tenderness such as the girl might 
have shown to a frightened foal or puppy-dog. 
Indeed, as they n}ov§d toward the door, the great 


HUNDERIK AT HOME. 


87 


wolf-hounds came leaping round her, and the half- 
grown ones, with big soft clumsy paws, almost 
knocked Attalus down, to the laughter of the 
other girl, while they barked and whined with 
eager joy, and Frau Bernhild called out, “ Ros- 
witha! Valhild! Where are you going? ” 

“ To feed the dogs, mother, and get some milk 
for the hostage,” was the answer of Roswitha. 

She led him, accompanied by Valhild, outside 
the door, into a great space of irregular yard, with 
a few barns and sheds, a stack or two of fagots, 
logs of wood around, and other ricks of straw or 
hay. The house where they had slept was higher 
and more completely roofed than the others, and 
the huge crossed trunks of pine-trees that formed 
the gable ends were at their tapering summits 
decked with skulls of horses, and on each side of 
the door stood a tall trunk of pine carved as a 
pillar. Cows, horses, sheep, goats, pigs, and poul- 
try were scattered all about the yard ; there were 
rudely clad men, women, and children running 
about, eating, or lounging among them. Only a 
few seemed to be employed effectively — some of 
the women were milking, a few of the men groom- 
ing the horses, and another was cutting up a sheep 


88 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


that had been killed. There was a kind of pave- 
ment before the doorway, but all the rest was a 
swamp of foulness and dirt, trampled on without 
caution or regard by bare or merely sandaled feet. 

The fowls came flocking round Roswitha, and 
she threw them scraps and barley, the latter of 
which she took from the barn behind her. Then 
stopping one of the women with a bowl of milk, 
she took possession of it, and after drinking a little 
herself, Valhild claimed it and drank deeply, but 
still more was left than even Attalus, hungry as 
he was, could finish at one draft, and Roswitha 
took her share. 

The sun was up now above the pine and beech 
trees on the hillside, and a loud blast on some kind 
of horn was heard, upon which all the horses, 
colts, and foals pricked up their ears and started 
off in the direction whence the sound came. The 
cows had already begun to gather together, and 
at another signal of the. same kind, but different, 
gravely set forth under the charge of their herds- 
man in another direction. So did the goats, who 
seemed to need no signal to make them go off to- 
ward the mountain led by a great old fellow with 
a long gray beard, but with feet full of antics. 


HUNDERIK AT HOME. 


89 


The sheep were not put in order without many 
blasts, and much barking and setting in order by 
the great shaggy dogs; nor did the swine-herd 
and his dogs get their grunting and squeaking 
charge into marching order for the woods without 
much trouble, which so diverted Attalus that he 
laughed for almost the first time since he had left 
Langres. 

Roswitha looked pleased, and he asked her 
where he could have a bath. She had never 
heard of such a thing, but when she understood 
she took him to the spring, which leaped out of a 
mossy fern-clad rock above the farmyard, and had 
a basin scooped out for it below, before it made its 
way as a stream across all the defilements of the 
yard. 

He wished the girls would go away, so that he 
could have stripped and had a real bath ; but they 
had no notion of what he meant, and were much 
too curious about the ways of this strange new 
being to get out of his way. However, he washed 
head, hands, and feet, and felt much refreshed. 

Still he was so weary, sore, and strained with his 
miserable ride that he could not walk without 
pain, and he spent most of that day and the fol- 


90 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


lowing lying on a heap of straw, half asleep, ex- 
cept when little Hundbert tormented him, evi- 
dently fancying the new-comer a strange animal 
imported for his amusement, pulling about the 
poor boy’s clothes, taking away whatever there 
was to take, poking his fingers into his eyes, and 
ordering him about. Once when Attalus could 
bear it no longer he attempted to drive the little 
tyrant off with a cuff ; but this led to a roar, and 
Frau Bernhild rushed up, threatened Attalus, and 
gave him a few smart strokes, which grieved and 
angered him more than all. He, a high-born 
noble, to be beaten by a barbarian woman ! 

Roswitha tried to protect him, but in vain, for 
the novelty of worrying him was only too delight- 
ful to her spoiled brother; and he had no peace 
except when the urchin was asleep or eating. 
Hunderik himself and his warriors indulged in a 
long rest after their expedition, and did not lounge 
out of their boxes till nearly noonday, when they 
looked at their horses, devoured the sheep and the 
broth in which it had been boiled, drank ale, and 
spent the rest of the day in cleaning up their 
armor, or in having their heads combed by their 
wives, who were called off from their spinning for 


HUNDER1K AT HOME. 


91 


the purpose. Hunderik played with his little son, 
who rode on his knee and tried on his helmet, 
shrieking and laughing with joy ; but he took no 
notice of his daughters, nor of Attalus, except 
that, probably on the complaint of either the boy 
or his mother, he observed, “ Thou dog of a host- 
age, if thou layest hands on my son it shall be the 
worse for thy skin.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


A STRANGE SUNDAY. 

ERE the people of Hundingburg Chris- 
tians? It perplexed Attalus, who had 
never observed any token of prayers, 
nor seen any one make the sign of the cross, and 
found that the day he had been used to call Do- 
minica, or the Lord’s Day, was termed by them 
only the Sun’s Day. He had hoped to see or hear 
of a priest on that day, and asked Roswitha if they 
would not go to church; but she did not under- 
stand him, and when she gathered that he meant 
some kind of observance she said, “ My father is 
going to hang up some of his spoil on the Erman- 
saul, and then he will come back with his kins- 
men, and we shall feast upon the colt that he has 
killed.” 

“But that is like pagans!” exclaimed Attalus, 
with a shudder. “Are you not Christians?” 

“ Oh, yes ; at the King’s bidding, they said 



92 


A STRANGE SUNDAY. 


93 


there came a man, a priest, and dipped us all in 
the river, and named us all in the name of the 
King’s God,” said Roswitha ; “ I remember it now.” 

‘'Yes,” said Valhild. ‘‘Mother held back and 
said He was not a warlike God, and father said the 
King had conquered in that name, and we were on 
Gaulish soil and must bow to the God of the Gauls, 
and King Clovis would have it so.” 

“ But He is the great King over all the earth, 
the only God,” returned Attalus, aghast. 

Neither of them fully understood the other, but 
Roswitha added, “ It cannot hurt Him and will do 
us good if father gives his spoil to our old god, 
Erman, and then he will bring -us good luck.” 

‘‘Is there no Christian priest?” exclaimed At- 
talus ; “ no one to tell you of the one great God 
and Christ, in whose name you are baptized?” 

Valhild shook her head. “ Father does not 
want those black-gowned Romans to come spying 
and lording it about here. You know it, Ros- 
witha ; you have heard him say how they knocked 
down the Rolandsaul and Ermansaul at Treves, 
and how no luck has since come to the Burgunds.” 

Attalus did not understand this, nor take in 
much of what the girls tried to explain to him, 


94 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


that the two pine-trees on either side of the door 
were called the pillars ( Sdulen ) of Roland and 
Erman, and were held sacred ; and that there was 
a much larger pillar in a temple in the depths of 
the forest, to which their father was about to pre- 
sent a part of the spoil of his expedition against the 
Thuringians under King Theudebert. 

How far all this was idolatry Attalus did not 
know. He had a dim notion that he had heard of 
these pillars of Roland and Erman before, and 
that there had been a debate at his grandfather’s 
table whether they were really idolatrous, or only 
emblems of power civil and military. 

He was rested by this time, and growing used 
to life without the neat and dainty habits to which 
he had been bred, and when he was out of Hund- 
bert’s way he rather liked the companionship of 
the little girls, since, though Valhild despised him 
as a miserable, incapable, cowardly Roman, Ros- 
witha admired him as a model of learning and 
wisdom. Curiosity and enterprise prevailed with 
him, and he determined to avail himself of the 
doubt he had heard expressed as to whether it 
really were a pagan rite and accompany the whole 
family to see what they did. 


A STRANGE SUNDAY. 


95 


Very early in the morning the master was heard 
blowing his horn to summon the household to- 
gether. No one was left at home but the few 
needful to watch the house, the fire, the babies, 
and the cattle of the establishment; the horses 
were not let out of their inclosure till enough had 
been caught for those who chose to ride them 
barebacked. Roswitha and Valhild meant to do 
so, both astride on one cream-colored shaggy 
steed ; but before mounting Roswitha offered to 
help Attalus catch a horse, and Valhild called out 
that he would be afraid to ride and must go afoot 
with the slaves. This put him on his mettle, and 
with only a little help from Roswitha he caught 
the old black mare that she pointed out to him by 
her long forelock, and vaulted on her successfully, 
as he had learned to do at the riding-school kept 
at Autun in the old circus. As he was not riding 
as a Roman gentleman it concerned him the less 
that the little foal, with curly forehead and stout 
legs, would trot after them. Hunderik never 
troubled himself about his daughters or his slaves, 
but was proud of his little son, whom he took up, 
screaming with joy, before him on his horse, a 
great powerful fiery creature, white and dappled 


96 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

with shaded black, and with heels that would let 
no other rider come near him. 

On they went through the forest paths, trodden 
in some degree, though impeded by the year’s 
growth of boughs. Once they halted near a river 
to eat and rest the horses, but soon after noontide 
they reached a great bleak open space, purple 
with heather, with a few houses like Hunderik’s, 
only smaller, standing round the borders at the 
edge of the forest, and on a mound in the midst a 
great tall upright stone, which Roswitha said was 
the Ermansaul. It really was an old stone of the 
ancient Celtic druidical worship, but the Franks 
had adopted it as the Pillar of Erman, though it 
did not by any means equal in splendor the 
Ermansaul of Eresburg, where there was a statue 
within an actual temple. The people of the 
houses came out to welcome Hunderik, and after 
some delay and preparation, and while the horses 
were being fed, one of the colts which had gal- 
loped along with the party was captured and led 
away. 

“Black Rana’s colt! Oh, the dear thing!” 
said Roswitha. “ I did not think they would 
have taken him, he was so tame and good!” 


A STRANGE SUNDAY. 97 

“ Taken him ? What for? ” exclaimed Attalus. 


“ Not for a heathen offering!” 

“ Hush ! hush ! ” said Roswitha, “ they will hear 
you. But I did love that dear soft-nosed colt, and 
he let me mount him.” 

The little maid was in tears, and her sister 
laughed at her. “ Soft-hearted Roswitha,” she 
said. 

“ I am sorry for my colt,” she answered. “ O 
Atli, is it true that Christians never make their 
horses an offering?” 

“ No, indeed,” he answered. “ My grandfather 
would be shocked and bid you renounce such 
deeds.” 

“ Then we should have no luck and no victory,” 
cried Valhild. “ Mother would beat you if she 
heard you.” 

“ Demons do not give victory. It is the Al- 
mighty God of armies,” said Attalus. 

Perhaps it was well for him that Valhild’s atten- 
tion was called off by a movement beside the 
houses, and a song arising which sounded like 

Herman sla derman, 

Sla piper, sla drummen, 

Der krieger is kommen, 


98 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


accompanied by loud drummings and blasts of 
wind-instruments. Then Hunderik, in his bright 
helmet, on his great white steed, at the head of all 
his warriors fully armed, rode forward, waving the 
sword that had been the price of Gola. They all 
galloped with thundering pace on their heavy 
horses round the mound several times, their armor 
flashing, and the wild song pealing from every 
throat to the accompaniment of the beats of the 
drum, the clang of iron, and the blasts of horns 
and fifes; and there was something wonderful in 
the excitement which filled everybody present 
and seemed to carry them along. The girls 
danced with their feet and joined in the wild song 
at the top of their shrill voices, and Attalus caught 
himself doing the same and shouting “ Herman sla 
derman,” before he recollected that it was an 
idolatrous chant, and, crossing himself, was silent. 
When the circuit had been made three times, 
faster and more furiously every time, there was a 
pause, and then Hunderik dismounted, came for- 
ward, and hung on some arrangement for the pur- 
pose the bleeding head of the poor colt, the whole 
ground being strewn with other horses’ heads and 
skulls in various stages of decay. 


A STRANGE SUNDAY. 


99 


Roswitha turned back and hid her tearful eyes 
from the sight of her favorite, but Valhild pressed 
forward to see better, and Attalus could not help 
looking, too, while the warriors laid before the 
pillar the shields, helmets, and axes of the Thu- 
ringians they had overcome or despoiled ; but he 
could not help remarking that most of these 
trophies were composed of broken or dinted 
weapons which could not serve again. 

After the solemnity there was a great feast. 
The caldron in which the colt had been cooked 
was brought out, and the priest, who acted as 
host, but whose helmet and breastplate showed 
him to be himself a warrior, served out the broth 
and collops of flesh into the bowls or the helmets 
which every one produced. Valhild went up to 
claim the share of herself and her sister in the 
bowl which her mother had caused a slave to 
bring. The amount dealt out to the hero’s 
daughters was ample, and they offered Attalus 
some ; but the idea of horse-meat made him shud- 
der, and he knew it was an idolatrous festival, and 
so he refused to taste, and only tried to satisfy his 
hunger with some bread that had been left from 
the midday meal. When the bowl was emptied 


IOO 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


by the help of the slave in charge of the horses, 
Valhild made another expedition and procured 
some strong ale, whereof they all drank, and then 
listened sleepily to the shouts and songs with 
which the rude banquet was being finished. 

All slept where they were, for it was too late to 
travel through the forest, where there might be 
wolves to carry off stragglers, and it was a beauti- 
ful night of early autumn, with a round red moon 
shining over them. Attalus, though very sleepy, 
roused himself to gaze at it, recollect his grand- 
father and St. Patrick, and say his prayers and the 
“ Breastplate ” before he finally composed himself 
among the heather and cranberries for his night’s 
rest. 

The horns were sounding their harsh reveille 
when he awoke with a start to see the sky through 
the trees golden with the sunrise. Every one was 
stirring, and the cavalcade was soon on its way 
home. Valhild, however, insisted on riding alone 
and letting Attalus ride with Roswitha. “ She 
was a poor, feeble, weeping child, who would 
never be a Velleda, and she was only fit to ride 
with the craven Roman pledge, who would never 
be brave if he shrank from gallant horse-flesh.” 


A STRANGE SUNDAY. 


IOI 


But Roswitha was more thoughtful, and as she 
sat in front of Attalus she asked him why he 
would not eat horse-flesh. “ Christians never do — 
real Christians,” he said. 

“Real Christians?” she said — “do real Chris- 
tians kneel and say what thou saidst last night?” 

“ Didst thou hear me ? I thought thou wast 
asleep.” 

“ Valhild was. I was not. It was Latin, was 
it not? And to whom didst thou speak?” 

“ To my God, the One God, in whose name 
thou wast baptized ! ” 

“ Tell me,” said Roswitha — “ I love a tale ;” and 
through that forest ride Attalus poured into her 
ears the great story of the Christian faith as he 
knew it. And as in that ride, and in other quiet 
hours, he talked to Roswitha, who listened with 
eager ears, he thought of the young St. Patrick, 
and was glad that the Frankish tongue came to 
him freely enough to make him able to be under- 
stood by the gentle-natured girl, who was really a 
baptized Christian though ignorant of the faith. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE HORSE HERDS. 

HERE is Roswitha?” asked Frau Bern- 
hild. “ She can keep Hundbert quiet 
while I broil these kidneys for thy 
father. Thou only lettest him get into the fire 
between my feet.” 

“ Roswitha? I think she is out by the stream 
with Atli,” returned Valhild. 

“ She is forever with that little dog of a pledge,” 
muttered the mother. 

“ Ay,” said Valhild ; “ he has bewitched her, as 
it seems to me, with some of his Roman arts.” 

“ I will go and see what they are about,” ex- 
claimed the mother. “ If he puts those feeble- 
hearted Gaulish notions into her, and teaches her 
his miserable fashions, what brave Frank will have 
her to wife ? ” 

Frau Bernhild, with Hundbert following her, 
made her way, guided by Valhild, to a sort of 



102 


THE HORSE HERDS. 


103 


cave which the brook had in times of flood filled 
up with sand. On this Attalus had traced with a 
stick the shapes which looked weird and awful to 
the Frank lady, but which Roswitha was endeavor- 
ing to imitate, while she said after him, “BOS, 
bos — ochs; M U S, mus — mans. ” 

With a sort of howl or shriek the lady fell on 
them. “ Little wretch of a pledge ! is this the 
way thou practicest your spells on my daughter? 
Frey, Grim, and all guard thee, my child, and 
blast his plans! ” 

“They are no spells, mother,” said Roswitha; 
“ he was only teaching me to read and write.” 

“ Read and write, thou senseless maid ! who do 
you think will ever wed thee, if thou takest up 
with such bond-slave’s foolery? Rub out the 
witch words this instant, and come and mind the 
fit business for a Freiherr’s daughter, not run after 
this scum of a slave.” There was no resisting the 
argument of the lady’s powerful fists, which she 
was ready to apply to both the offenders, and 
while Valhild and Hundbert danced upon the 
letters, and Attalus crept out of the way, Ros- 
witha was dragged off by her mother to the accom- 
paniment of a sharp scolding, by no means dimin- 


104 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


ished by her venturing to say something about not 
fearing Frey, for a Christian had renounced Odin 
and all his folks. 

“ Hold thy peace, thou wicked child ; name not 
the All-father by his own name, or he will visit 
on thee thy daring words toward him and his.” 

Bernhild had herself called Odin Grim, for his 
name was held sacred; and Roswitha was musing 
whether the All-father was the same as Atli’s 
One God, or whether he were really Odin and an 
idol. She hardly heard the growls with which her 
mother was murmuring at Hunderik’s having 
brought home the little Roman wretch to poison 
and bewitch her daughters. 

The next morning Attalus was roughly roused 
from sleep by Bodo, a big hard-handed man, who 
acted as a sort of steward or foreman to the 
household ; and he was told he was to go out with 
the rest and herd the horses. 

“I?” exclaimed Attalus, sitting up. “ But 
that is thrall’s work. I am no thrall.” 

“Art not?” said Bodo, flourishing his whip. 
“That thou wilt soon see.” 

“ I am a freeman. I belong to my grandfather, 
Senator and Bishop, and to King Hildebert,” cried 



ATI ALUS WAS ROUGHLY ROUSED FROM SLEEP BY BODO.' 

p. 104 


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♦ 







THE HORSE HERDS. 


105 


Attalus, louder than caution would have allowed, 
but that he was only half awake. “ I will ask 
Hunderik.” 

The whip came smartly down. 

“ Hunderik is gone wolf-hunting with King 
Theudebert,” said the fellow, scornfully. “ It is 
his command and my lady’s ; much we heed such 
talk — Gaulish serfs are ye all. Come at once, or 
shall I have to flog thee out, thou tardy, lazy 
lubber of a coward Roman?” 

Attalus looked round, but no one was to be 
seen save thralls in even greater fear of Bodo than 
himself, and he was forced by the terrors of the 
whip waving over him to rise and come out of the 
house to the place where the horses were being 
assembled. A basket of oat-cakes was there, and 
one was thrown to Attalus, who at first disre- 
garded it, but the slave next to him grinned and 
advised him not to neglect it, for it was all he 
would get during the day, except what he might 
pick up in the forest. 

Bodo mounted one of the best horses bare- 
backed, and called out to the slave not to let Atli 
lag behind, and then, with another blast of the 
horn, set forth, the horses following as by welb 


106 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 

accustomed instinct, and about ten or twelve of 
the slaves coming likewise, several of them riding. 
One of them, who looked as if he were partly 
negro, scoffed at the boy’s endeavor to keep up 
with the rest, or rather to keep out of the way of 
blows which cut his heart more than his limbs by 
the indignity to a free Roman. However, a more 
good-natured-looking fat fellow, whom he had 
seen laughing with every one, stopped his horse 
and said, “ Get up here, boy. Hogmane can 
carry double.” 

“That he does already,” called out one of the 
others, and there was a good-humored laugh ; but 
Attalus was helped to climb up by the leg of his 
friend, and they rode on through the forest, the 
merry slave, Milo, exchanging with his fellows 
drolleries that Attalus could not understand, but 
occasionally pausing to ask if he were at his ease, 
and likewise what he had done to offend the Haus- 
frau so grievously, and in Gallic Latin, which 
sounded friendly. 

“ Only talking to Roswitha — showing her how 
we write and read.” 


“ That will not do,” said Milo. “ See, now, I 


THE HORSE HERDS. \QJ 

lived in a great household at Genabum, where the 
master had us all to church every mom, and there 
came a subdeacon day by day to teach the chil- 
dren; but the Franks made a descent on us and 
put the town to ransom, and I was taken to make 
up the contribution my master was rated at. A 
freer life it is, if a rougher, and thou wilt soon get 
to like it best. One is not troubled with catechists, 
and prayers and psalms, and fast-days.” 

Attalus gave a sort of groan of horror. “ Poor 
lad,” said Milo, mistaking him, “ ’tis fast-day with 
thee willing or no; but eat up thy oat-cake; 
never fear — I have a lump of pork in my wallet, 
and thou shalt have thy share, and I will show 
thee how to set snares for rabbits or quails.” 

“Oh! thou art good,” exclaimed Attalus, a 
little diverted from his dismay at Milo's willing 
relapse into heathenism in his comfort at finding a 
friend, whose broad well-fleshed chest was a much 
more comfortable pillow than he had known be- 
fore; and he was glad to venture on eating his 
oat-cake, which, tough and hard as it was, oc- 
cupied his teeth and his throat as far as the horses 
went — namely, to an open space between the 


108 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

wooded hillsides, where they were to feed and 
disport themselves till nearly sundown. 

The thralls were to be posted at intervals 
around the space, partly to keep the horses from 
overrunning too much at once and spoiling it for 
the time for future pasture, and partly to prevent 
their getting into the surrounding forests, where 
they might not only be lost but might become the 
prey of wolves and bears. 

All this Milo explained to Attalus while taking 
up his station on the borders of the juniper and 
stunted birch that marked the limits on their side, 
while the horses with one accord trotted down to 
drink at the little brook. Milo was an easy-go- 
ing, good-natured, careless fellow, to whom, as 
long as he had plenty of food and could lie down 
in the sun, all matters of religion or of freedom 
were alike, though he would have preferred be- 
longing to a civilized Roman, chiefly because the 
language was natural to him, and he was better 
fed, clothed, and housed ; but good city manners 
were a trouble to him, and the lessons of the 
catechist a still greater one. However, he was 
sorry for the little Roman boy, knowing what 
he had lost, and liked, too, to speak with him 


THE HORSE HERDS . 


109 


the odd mixed tongue which in time became 
French. 

So Attalus was not utterly solitary. No one 
minded his being with Milo, nor indeed what be- 
came of him, so long as he was out of Roswitha’s 
way. Moreover, as most boys would do, he had 
lost a good many of the dainty habits to which he 
had been bred, so that the absence of the bath and 
of clean or even whole clothes ceased to cause 
him personal discomfort. The guardianship of the 
horses did not prove altogether such a difficult 
matter, for the herd never strayed far away from 
their leader — a great powerful gray, who would 
never be caught nor allow any one to mount him 
but Hunderik. To turn him back from wherever 
he wished to go, always followed by the whole 
herd, required the full force of the keepers united ; 
but he had a great deal too much sense often to 
make such an attempt, and when he did it was 
a serious and dangerous business to oppose the 
stampede. Moreover, he knew quite as well as 
the herdsmen when it was time to go home, and 
never waited for the horn to summon him. All 
the others followed him obediently except the 
young half-grown colts, who seemed occasionally 


I IO 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


to take a fit of restiveness, or thinking for them- 
selves, and wanted to start on fresh ground near 
the marsh or woodland, where they would have 
been bogged or perhaps lost and devoured by the 
wolves. These required watching, but were easily 
headed back by any one on the alert. Attalus 
was never in any real charge, and was allowed to 
do as he pleased and keep with Milo, who was 
very kind to him, and showed him how to snare 
the wild game, and even to shoot it with rude 
bows and arrows of their own construction; and 
when brought down, they plucked or skinned the 
creatures and roasted them on sticks or by bury- 
ing them amid stones in the earth, keeping the 
hare and rabbit skins, and spreading them to dry, 
so as to have a store to make winter coats. It 
was not exactly Leo's cookery, but Attalus really 
enjoyed it quite as much or more, and during this 
summer-time he was not at all unhappy; in fact, 
more and more of the Roman was dropping from 
him as he grew more roughened by the hardy life 
he was leading and the companions with whom he 
more or less consorted on the heath, where the 
pasture was changed from time to time under 
Bodo’s directions. Attalus, like the other herds- 


THE HORSE HERDS. 


I I I 

men, slept in the shed where the horses were 
sheltered at night, riding barebacked to and from 
the feeding-ground on whichever steed would let 
him mount. He was ragged and dirty, and, worst 
of all, he was fast getting hardened to forget not 
only his learning but his faith. Wakened by the 
horn, he rushed out to secure a horse and a lump 
of food without the prayers, which he forgot all 
day ; and at night when he rode home he was so 
sleepy that he only remained awake long enough 
to devour the rude meal Milo secured for him ; and 
he was on his way to become as great a heathen 
as the Franks around. 

As long as he was with Roswitha and Valhild 
he had felt bound to show himself a Roman and a 
Christian, and had felt the stimulus of the elder 
girl’s admiration and real desire to learn the faith. 
But now he was cut off from her and hardly ever 
even saw her — going out in the early morning and 
coming home tired late at night, and never supping 
or sleeping in the great family building — there 
was nothing to keep him to higher thoughts. 
The free open-air life was making him grow tall 
and strong, and the boy nature was coming out in 
him and swallowing up the character that home 


I 12 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


care had fostered, so that he cared more for riding 
and catching game than for anything else except 
perhaps holding his own among the other lads 
and proving to them that a Gallo-Roman was no 
coward. 


CHAPTER XI. 


gola’s ransom. 

T Langres there was daily prayer, both 
public and private, for the poor little 
exile. He was mentioned each day 
when the sick, the oppressed, and the captives 
were prayed for at the holy Eucharist, and his 
grandfather, his uncle, and all who loved him in 
the household made their prayers that he might 
he kept safely and restored without harm to body 
or soul. 

The first that was heard of him was one cold 
winter’s day, when to the open door of the court 
of the house of Bishop Gregory there came a Jew, 
followed by three or four slaves. He bowed low 
to the doorkeeper, and demanded whether the 
great and clement lord of the household would 
deal with him for a useful and accomplished ser- 
vant, or for one strong to bear burdens. 

“ My master never purchases a slave,” answered 
113 



I 14 the cook and the captive. 

the porter, looking out at the little door of his 
lodge, cut in the thickness of the brick wall, where 
he was enjoying the first pan of charcoal embers 
of the season. 

“ Marcus, Marcus, dost not know me?” cried a 
lamentable voice. 

“ Gola’s voice!” exclaimed the porter, emerging 
now, and beholding a wretched and forlorn-look- 
ing figure, his once comfortable woolen tunic and 
trousers reduced to rags, his sandals worn to 
shreds so that his feet were bleeding, a beard long 
and, like his hair, quite white, instead of only 
grizzled, and his face, once all roundness and 
good-nature, sallow, haggard, and lean, with the 
Moorish yellow tint showing so that it was like 
old parchment. 

“Gola! Is it thou?” cried Marcus again. 
“ Poor Gola, how earnest thou here, and where is 
the young Attalus?” 

“Alas! alas! Heaven only knows,” cried poor 
Gola, clasping his hands and lifting them up, while 
tears ran down the deep furrows in his cheeks. 
“ I was rent from him in the night by the brutal 
Franks and sold to this — this — this — ” He 
paused, afraid to utter the opprobrious epithet 


GOLA'S RANSOM. 


15 


upon his tongue, and the Jew took up the word: 
“ I bought him from the Frankish noble Hunderik 
for a sword and breastplate worth ten pounds 
weight in silver, paid down on the spot. I have 
maintained him in sickness and health for these 
four months, and I cannot think of letting him go 
for less than seven.” 

“The Frank had no right to sell what did not 
belong to him,” returned the porter. “ Here, 
come in and warm thyself, poor brother Gola, and 
tell us how this chanced, and where are the boy 
and Festus. Go thou, Peter, and fetch Father 
Philetus and Master Cornelius. But tell us of the 
young master, Gola.” 

“Alas! would that I could! but Festus was 
taken from us at Soissons, I fear me with his own 
good-will. The Kings made over my poor young 
lord, my heart’s darling, to an untamed savage 
barbarian named Hunderik. On the outskirts of 
Treves this. Abner says he took on him to ex- 
change me for his weapons, and I was carried 
away by force in the night, or I would never, 
never have left the darling of my heart.” 

By this time all the household had come to- 
gether — Philetus, the tutor ; Cornelius, a freedman, 


1 16 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

the steward of the household; Baldrik, who had 
come to look grave, prim, and demure, with his 
tonsured head and little clerical gown ; Leo, with 
bare arms and dough sticking about them; Gil- 
christ, the Irish monk, still walking lame, together 
with several more clergy and many more servants, 
all eager to hear of little Attalus. 

The Jew, Abner, looked from one to the other 
as if he were reckoning what price he could put 
on even letting Gola speak. 

“Thou merchant,” demanded Philetus, “how 
didst thou become possessed of a slave who be- 
longs to the holy and clement Gregory, both Sen- 
ator and Bishop? ” 

“ By fair and honest purchase, sir, as he can tell 
thee himself.” 

“ What right had any man to sell thee the slave 
who is the property of my lord ? ” demanded 
Cornelius. 

“ It was the free lord Hunderik of Hunding- 
burg, to whom the youth and his following had 
been granted by King Theudebert,” responded 
the Jew, with low bows and in a submissive voice. 
“ The slaves were made over to him, and he sold 
this man to me for an inlaid breastplate of brass 


GO LA 'S RANSOM. 


ii 7 

and silver, curious work of Rome, and. a Byzantine 
blade of excellent metal, worth ten pounds of 
silver.” 

“The robber!” was the murmur that went 
through the spectators. 

“ Might is right in these days, alas!” said Phile- 
tus ; and Cornelius added, “ It is most unfortunate 
that his Clemency is absent.” 

“ Hunderik is a mere barbarian savage,” broke 
out Baldrik ; “ I have heard my father say so. It 
is frightful for Attalus to be in his hands. But for 
this man, he is Bishop Gregory’s. Keep him here. 
The rogue of a Jew had no right to buy him.” 

“ The noble citizens would not see a poor Jew 
defrauded,” whined Abner; “ nor would the great 
and clement Bishop, nor the Consul of this place.” 

For Philetus and Cornelius were consulting 
whether it might not be better to refer the matter 
to the Consul, as they called the chief magistrate 
of the place under the Senator ; but Cornelius rec- 
ollected that a Jewish physician and likewise a 
Jewish handmaid of his wife were thought to have 
much influence over him, and he strongly sus- 
pected that the cunning Abner had had some in- 
timation from them of a favorable time for bring- 


8 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


ing Gola to the house of the Bishop. Gregory 
was, in fact, gone to the Court of Hildebert at 
Paris, carrying the yearly tribute of his district, and 
hoping to ascertain the fate of his grandson and 
the chances of his restoration. There was little 
hope in an appeal to the magistrate, considering 
who had his ear. It was probable, yet not certain, 
that Gregory, though on principle he never pur- 
chased slaves, would think it right to redeem poor 
Gola, who looked half starved, half clothed, and 
with clasped hands implored his rescue. He had 
evidently been very ill, and had suffered in every 
respect; and Cornelius would have ventured to 
advance the amount, sure that the Bishop would 
pardon him for exceeding the rule, but he really 
had not the money in hand. All that was avail- 
able had been carried off by Bishop Gregory to 
satisfy the never-ending demands of King Hilde- 
bert, and the household was subsisting on the 
provisions brought in from the Bishop’s estates, 
and on the offerings of the Christian peasantry. 
There was silver and gold plate belonging to the 
table, but though Gregory might have parted with 
it for such a purpose, the steward could not vent- 
ure on so doing. 


GOLA'S RANSOM. 


119 

Gola wept bitterly, and entreated, “ Oh, let him 
not take me away ! I shall die in his hands. He 
will poison me as worthless.” 

Perhaps this was unjust to the Jew, but it 
moved the servants very much, and Philetus be- 
gan to bargain for Gola’s being left where he was 
till the master’s return, to satisfy all claims; but 
of this Abner would not hear, inferring in a sneer- 
ing though abject tone that he knew something of 
Roman faith. 

Little Baldrik was the first to move. He came 
forward holding out the silver and ivory cup from 
which he drank and the buckle of his belt. 
“ These are my own,” he said; “ take them and 
set poor Gola free.” 

The Jew smiled. “ The fifth part of him may 
be, young priestling.” 

But already Leo was coming to the front, with 
a black and grimy canvas bag. Slave as he was, 
many a guest of his master had flung him a small 
coin in acknowledgment of the good dinners that 
he had prepared; and he had sometimes, more- 
over, been borrowed when one or other of the 
townsmen was about to make a feast and wanted 
the services of the best cook in Langres. He had 


120 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


accumulated all with the view of purchasing his 
own freedom, but he now threw the bag down 
before Abner, naming the amount, and saying, 
“ Take all and release him. It is worth nothing 
to me, and this is his fair purchase.” 

“ I must have what I gave for him, or he is a 
dead loss,” said the Jew. 

“ Dead verily. So he will be soon in thy keep- 
ing,” said Leo. 

Again Baldrik put in his oar : “ Alive or dead, 
my father, Garfried of the Blue Sword, will come 
and take account of him from thee.” 

“Well, well,” said the Jew, “let us see what is 
in that bag. Would I take a slave’s word?” 

Leo poured out his hoard on the pavement of 
the court; a large amount in quantity, but the 
value of each coin very small. They were of 
many mints, Roman and Frank, one or two going 
back to Julian and to Carausius, but this was not 
the point. The sum was just what Leo called it ; 
but Abner, of course, estimated many pieces at a 
smaller price, and finally declared the contents to 
be far beneath any such ransom as he could ac- 
cept for Gola, even with Baldrik’s contribution 


GOLA'S RANSOM. 


121 


added. Cornelius now brought a few coins of his 
own property ; Philetus had nothing to give ; but 
Leo’s example stimulated some of the other by- 
standers to bring a few more sesterces — though 
none had saved like Leo, and the amount was but 
little swelled. 

However, Abner had purchased poor Gola 
chiefly as a speculation, and had seen him pining 
away and growing more aged and weak every 
day, partly from grief, and partly from the very 
different scale of living he met with at Treves from 
the comforts of a favorite servant in an episcopal 
household. The Jew already perceived that no 
one else would buy the worn-out old man, and 
that all he would gain was here ; and as soon as 
he saw that there was absolutely no more to be 
got he began to chaffer with Cornelius, and finally, 
declaring that he was moved entirely by pity and 
the affection that these Gentiles showed for one 
another, he accepted the ransom and moved off, 
while Gola threw himself at Leo’s feet, sobbing 
out attempts at thanks, mingled with his grief and 
despair at Leo having thus given away all he had 
laid up for his own freedom. 


22 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


“And I — wretch that I was! — had not voice 
nor manhood enough to refuse to profit by thy 
sacrifice.” 

“ No sacrifice,” said Leo, gruffly, “ to remain 
here under our good master. How could I see 
my old comrade carried off by the dog Jew? It 
would have preyed on my mind forever. But let 
us hear of young Attalus.” 

“ Alas ! alas ! that I should be here, restored to 
my home and all its blessings, when he, the boy, 
the darling of my soul, is in the hands of those 
fiends, I know not where.” 

The whole household closed round Gola to hear 
what he had to tell, whicn only went as far as that 
King Theudebert had put Attalus under the 
charge of Hunderik, and the successive depriva- 
tions that the poor boy had suffered ; and there his 
knowledge ended, and he could only tell of the 
dismal court of the slave-dealer and his own 
sufferings. 

Baldrik spoke out: “ Hunderik lives up in the 
hills and moors beyond Treves. He is a wild bar- 
barian. If my father knew, he would hasten to 
Hundingburg with all his freemen and would fight 


GOLA'S RANSOM. 


123 


with him till Attalus was free. Friedbald will be 
there. Oh, that I could still fight!” 

“ Well crowed for a young priest,” said Corne- 
lius, and though Baldrik blushed and shrank into 
himself, his eyes still glanced fire. 

“ We shall see first,” said Philetus, “ what tid- 
ings our lord brings home from Paris, and whether 
the cities for which Attalus is a hostage have been 
delivered up.” 

Meantime Leo and the rest led the rescued 
Gola off to be fed and clothed. 


CHAPTER XII. 

GILCHRIST’S VENTURE. 

ILCHRIST, the Irish pilgrim, had been 
detained much against his will at Lang- 
res by repeated outbreaks of the disease 
in his wounded foot, and the fever and weakness 
that accompanied them ; but at last recovery had 
set in, and he could walk, so that he would already 
have set forth if he had not been assured that he 
would find it absolutely impossible to cross the 
Alps in the coming winter, and that if he set out 
now it would only be to leave his bones upon the 
mountains. 

Native of warm, damp Ireland, he hardly be- 
lieved what he was told, even on the word of the 
Bishop and of Tetricus, who had both made the 
journey, and described to him the precipices, the 
glaciers, the avalanches, and the impossibility of 
finding his way without the guides whom he could 



124 


GILCHRIST'S VENTURE. 


125 


not pay, so that his only chance was by joining 
some company of pilgrims who were certain to be 
crossing in the summer, and were sure to allow 
him to accompany them and share their food. 

However, he had been detained, much against 
his will, so long that he seemed like a regular in- 
mate of Gregory’s house, and shared many of its 
interests, besides having become tolerably familiar 
both with the Gallic form of Latin and the broken 
Frankish that passed for the vernacular. 

He spent the night in one long vigil. He pre- 
ferred to do such watchings up to his neck in 
water, but as the river was too far off for this, he 
prostrated himself on the pavement. He always 
did the like, only not for so long a time, on Fri- 
days, and seemed able to exist without food or 
sleep, or with the smallest possible amount, much 
longer than the household, who inherited habits of 
Roman ease, though kept in check by Christian 
self-denial. Indeed there was very little of him 
save a frame of bones covered by a freckled skin, 
with an eager soul looking out of a pair of vivid 
dark eyes. 

No sooner was the house astir, and the morning 
daily Eucharist over, than he stood forth and said, 


126 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


“ I go to find the boy, the grandson of the holy 
Bishop.” 

There was a general outcry : 

He knew not where to go, the ways were forest ; 
he would be eaten by the wolves; he would be 
starved himself ; he would be lost in the woods ; 
he would meet with mere barbarians ; he did not 
know which road to take — it was mere madness. 
To all he had but one answer: “ God would lead 
him. The boy was a lamb of God’s own. He 
would go to seek him. As to starving, he could 
live on a little ; as to the wolves, if it were Heav- 
en’s will, he was as willing to go to paradise by 
their teeth as by any other way.” 

What was the use of trying to persuade a man 
who had no fears, no shrinking from pain or dis- 
comfort? Besides, no one present possessed that 
authority of the Bishop to which alone he would 
give way, and he was absolutely determined. He 
knew that he must pass through Treves, and there 
he meant to put himself under the protection of 
the memory of the great St. Athanasius, the cham- 
pion of the faith, as he well knew; but beyond 
this all was uncertain. Philetus insisted on writ- 
ing a letter to bespeak kindness and protection 


GILCHRIST'S VENTURE. 


1 27 


from the clergy or the monks of Treves for the 
crazy pilgrim, and Leo filled his wallet with the 
food likely to last longest, and, moreover, walked 
out a mile or two from the town with him to pre- 
vent him from giving it all away to beggars. 

“ Would that I were going with thee!” said 
Leo as they parted ; “ I could succor the boy 
more effectively than thou art like to do.” 

“ Come, then,” said Gilchrist. 

“ I cannot — I am a slave.” 

“ I had forgotten,” said Gilchrist. “Yet aid 
me by thy prayers.” 

So the little worn figure in brown frock and 
hood disappeared from sight, and no word was 
heard of him. 

No doubt, said some of the more irreligious of 
the household, the wolves had had him. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE HOLLOW TREE. 



HE winter was not a very severe one. 
If it had been, the less promising colts 
would have had to be slaughtered, so 
as to leave food enough for the rest ; and the family 
of Hunderik would have eaten them with as little 
scruple as they had in devouring the swine or 
cattle, of whom, as a matter of course, all the 
young progeny were eaten, and only the parents 
left to keep up the stock. 

The horses were always spared to the last, 
though they could not at times be turned out, but 
a good deal of the labor of their herds was spent 
in collecting the ferns and reeds, and anything 
that would serve for fodder, to help out the small 
amount of hay and straw that had been stored 
in the early autumn. Whenever it was tolerably 
fine and free from snow the horses were taken 
out to pick up what they could in some of the 
128 


THE HOLLOW TREE. 


129 


more sheltered valleys, where springs resisted the 
less violent frosts and kept the grass tolerably 
moist. 

Milo, and Attalus with him, had gone out with 
a favorite mare and her foal, to take them, apart 
from the others, to a place in the forest sheltered 
by high trees, but open to noontide sun, and 
where a little green had been discovered, showing 
the first signs of early spring. There was a small 
stream, bordered but not covered by ice, and they 
were endeavoring to find a little fish or two to add 
to their own ration of a lump of hard salt fish, 
when suddenly a strange sound fell upon their 
ears — the chanting voice of a man, singing words 
in a language neither understood; but Attalus 
looked up as he caught the lilt, and exclaimed, 
“ That is the ‘ Breastplate of St. Patrick! ’ ” and he 
started forward in the direction of the sound in 
among the trees. 

There was a great hollow tree, between several 
other huge primeval firs, with long sweeping 
branches hanging almost to the ground, and 
there, in the hollow, scarcely to be distinguished 
from the ruddy brown of the pine stems in his dark 
reddish dress, stood a hooded figure, freckled, red- 


130 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

bearded, and singing forth in his native Erse that 
beloved hymn — 

Christ in the field, 

Christ in the fold, 

and by his side lay two pretty, delicate-limbed 
deer. 

“Gilchrist! Gilchrist!” shouted the boy, fling- 
ing out his arms. 

The hermit started, the hinds sprang up, but 
one of them limped, and instead of bounding off 
shrank to Gilchrist for protection, while he ex- 
claimed, “ Blesstd be the saints! Found, found! 
as I promised his Clemency the Bishop,” and he 
gathered the boy into his embrace. 

“ Gilchrist, Gilchrist, how didst thou come here ? 
Didst come to search for me ? Milo, ’tis a pilgrim, 
a guest of my grandfather’s. Oh, let me hear! 
How is he? How is my uncle? Am I ever to 
go home? ” 

Gilchrist answered each confused question as 
well as he could, and they gradually came on each 
side to an understanding of the situation. Gil- 
christ told of the return and repurchase of Gola 
in the absence of the Bishop, and how he himself 
had set forth on finding that Attalus was left alone, 



THE DISCOVERY OF GILCHRIST'S HIDING-PLACE, p. 130 















































THE HOLLOW TREE . 


131 

so as to discover what had become of him. His 
way had been very long, and much hindered, espe- 
cially since he had passed Treves, and no doubt 
he had been nearly starved, and existed by some- 
thing little short of miracle; but to that these 
primitive Irish saints were well used, and Gilchrist 
said not a word of his hardships. 

Lying at the bottom of a steep place he had 
found the half-grown fawn, its leg broken, and its 
side torn by a hunter’s dog, and the mother stand- 
ing over it. She had darted away at first, and the 
creature struggled, but soon submitted under his 
hand when he bound it up, and both had become 
his fond companions ever since. The hind still 
had milk enough to afford him a little support 
when all else was lacking, and they had slept be- 
side him and kept him warm. They had gone a 
little way off, their great soft wistful eyes regard- 
ing his visitors with some alarm, but it was plain 
that they were not about to leave him. 

Had he been at Hundingburg? Yes, some days 
ago he had been to the town, as he called it, but 
there had been a yelling forth of words that he 
could not understand, and he saw dogs ready to 
be loosed, which made him fear for his hind and 


132 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

her fawn, and he had retreated, endeavoring to 
make his approaches more warily, as indeed he 
had not been able to discover whether this were 
the place of Attalus’s captivity. He had decided 
to wait as near as was prudent, and endeavor to 
find out whether this were the dwelling of Hun- 
derik. So he had wandered on till he had found 
the shelter of this hollow tree, such a hermitage as 
many a Celtic anchoret of those centuries owned, 
there to rest his foot, which showed signs of re- 
newed mischief. 

He was perfectly contented there. He said he 
wanted for nothing — he ate the seeds out of the 
fir cones, and caught the little fish, and he would 
not even taste a piece of Milo’s meat because it 
was Lent. Milo was far past keeping fast-days, 
and Attalus had forgotten the time of year. In- 
deed, the fresh smell of the pines, with their young 
scaly buds becoming visible, was very grateful. 

There was much to tell and tell again on either 
side, till, as the sun began going down and bathing 
the stems of the pines with ruddy light, Gilchrist 
exclaimed that it was time for his evening praise 
and prayer, and began to chant. It was badly 
pronounced Latin, but the words were familiar to 


THE HOLLOW TREE. 


133 


Attalus, and spoke of home, and to Milo they 
were the cadence of a long, long forgotten time, 
and by and by, when Gilchrist and Attalus had 
ceased, the rough fellow’s face was covered with 
tears. 

“ Father,” he sobbed, “ thou wilt not go away. 
I will come back again to-morrow and bring 
thee—” 

“ I — I could not go if I would,” said Gilchrist, 
smiling, and holding out a foot which frost, rocks, 
and dust had brought to a state that would have 
horrified Philetus, and made Attalus cry out with 
pity and dismay. Yet Gilchrist, in his solitude 
among the whispering pines, and with no com- 
panions save the two deer, seemed far happier than 
ever he had done in the household at Langres. 

Milo and Attalus went back, with their two 
horses, both grave and sad, many a thought and 
yearning within them. Attalus was wakened from 
the indifference that had been growing on him, 
and felt utterly homesick and weary as the dear 
old faces of his grandfather, Leo, and even his 
stern uncle and Philetus, rose on him ; the chant- 
ings in the chapel sounded in his ears, and as he 
looked down at his ragged and dirty tunic, supple- 


134 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

merited by a goatskin belted round with a thong, 
he felt a great disgust with himself and all his sur- 
roundings. He gazed away over the hills and 
woods, and wondered whether Gilchrist had come 
with the expectation of helping him to escape. 
But of this nothing had been said, nor did it 
appear that Gilchrist could move, besides, he sup- 
posed he was still a hostage ; and as he lay on his 
bed of fern, among the horses, he wept bitterly, and 
prayed as he had never prayed since the earlier 
days when hope had not faded away from him. 

Milo had a good deal more liberty than Attalus, 
since no one thought of his escape being possible. 
Gilchrist’s lair was at no great distance, and as soon 
as the first dawn of the March morning began to 
come in he was stirring, and was soon on his way, 
while the cattle’s dull champing sounds of chew- 
ing the cud, the cock’s occasional clarion, and the 
early twitters of the sparrows were alone to be 
heard around. With a hard, dried griddle-cake, 
saved from what had been thrown to him for his 
supper, he was on his way, while the sky above the 
trees grew lighter, and presently he heard another 
sound — at first he thought that of a fox stealing 
home, but it really was that of Attalus’s bare feet, 


THE HOLLOW TREE. 


135 


and a hand was thrust into his, as almost fearfully 
the boy looked about on the world in this unaccus- 
tomed light. He, too, had brought a share of his 
supper. He was drawn by the longing to see the 
good man again, with all of home that the contact 
with him brought. 

The sun had not risen, only the tender shoots on 
the tops of the pine-trees were gaining a brighter, 
redder hue, when the two came in sight of the lit- 
tle brown figure kneeling, and could hear his lowly 
murmured prayer, while his two deer were feed- 
ing on the frosty grass around. He looked much 
more congenial there amid the pine woods than 
ever he had done in the great Roman palace, and 
both his visitors were struck with a strange feeling 
of new reverence, such as Attalus had scarcely felt 
even in church. 

Milo threw himself at the hermit’s feet and cried 
aloud, “ Oh, pray for me, win pardon for me ! I 
am a sinful man ! ” 

Gilchrist laid a hand on him and prayed with 
him, and promised to join constantly in prayer 
with him and with Attalus, whose boyish indiffer- 
ence and childish faults were now recollected with 
shame and pain. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE HIND AND THE HOUNDS. 

one could have supposed that a wild 
nd lame Irish hermit, living in a hollow 
ree, could have made such a difference 
to Attalus as did the presence of Gilchrist, and not 
merely to Attalus and Milo but to others besides 
them. 

Attalus was roused from his dreary indifferent 
state, in which he had been fast falling into the 
heathen and ungodly ways of the Franks around. 
To hear that his dear old Gola was safe and had 
carried tidings of him to Langres was great joy, 
and gave him hopes of his grandfather being able 
to do something for him; but above all the re- 
newal of prayer and all good influences woke him 
up to the consciousness that had been passing 
away from him. 

It was the same with Milo, and one or other of 
them tried to visit the hermit constantly in the 
136 



THE HIND AND THE HOUNDS . 137 

lengthening mornings and evenings. There were 
others who followed their example, creeping out to 
see what strange resort they had. Some thought 
that the little russet man was a sort of wizard, and 
shrank back from him ; but others came near, 
drawn by an irresistible sort of attraction, and list- 
ened while he told them of the One All-father 
and of His Son the Redeemer. 

Roswitha had not been so entirely kept apart 
from Attalus after the winter began, though he was 
seldom admitted within the family dwelling; but 
she had met him on the snowy days when the 
cattle could not be turned out, and there had been 
little conversations, not much more than gossip, 
about the horses, cows, and goats; but he some- 
how fell into the habit of bringing her home the 
first signs of spring — a willow catkin, a primrose 
flower, or a buttercup — and she watched for him. 

“ What makes thee go off to the fir-wood cave 
so often?” she asked. “Is it true that there is 
an old wizard there who bewitches thee?” 

“ Oh, nay, nay, Roswitha. He is a good old 
man, who tells me those holy words thy mother 
cut me short in saying to thee.” 

“ I thought thou knewest them well before?” 


138 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

“ Ah ! but I had forgotten in this godless place. 
Come, Roswitha, and see him some morn.” 

Roswitha had more liberty just now, for both 
Valhild and Hundbert were unwell. Probably it 
was from the feverish forms of illness that often 
beset the dwellers in conditions that might be very 
healthy in the summer, when life was spent in the 
open air, but in wet winters like the past were apt 
to be very unwholesome. Frau Bernhild never 
cared much for her daughters, and Valhild might 
peak and pine, fret or rage, without much notice; 
but little Hundbert was quite another affair — the 
only son, and the pride of the family as well as the 
darling. Indeed, Bernhild could never be sure 
that, if her boy died, his father might not take 
another wife; for Christianity sat very lightly on 
him, as on others of the Franks, and he would only 
have been following the example of the royal line 
of the Meerwing. 

Roswitha was a good deal let alone, since both 
the sick children preferred the tendance of their 
mother, and of their foster-mothers, to her more 
fitful attentions. 

So she joined Milo and Attalus one morning 
when they went in quest of Gilchrist, and she 


THE HIND AND THE HOUNDS. 


139 


stood with hands clasped and face raised in won- 
der as he sang forth his early morning hymn, and 
they both chimed in with responses at the appro- 
priate intervals. 

When it was over she sprang forward and cried, 
“ Oh, sir, is it Attalus’s god ? ” 

Perhaps, as the child stood before him, with her 
fair flaxen hair glinting in the light of the rising 
sun, the hermit thought of Ethne and Fedlima, the 
pupils of St. Patrick, as he laid his hand on the 
shining head and answered her that he did, indeed, 
serve the God of Attalus, to Whom she had been 
dedicated in the waters of the stream. 

Thus, day after day, did Roswitha come and list- 
en to the words, given in an uncouth form, indeed, 
and rendered and explained by Attalus, who was 
more and more alive to such thoughts under this 
contact. Milo, too, was wondrously attracted, as 
he had never been in his civilized Gallo- Roman 
life. More than one of the household followed 
them. The boys began by throwing stones, but 
somehow they fell short, and the way in which the 
hermit stood under his tree, with his hands lifted 
in blessing, gradually awed them, and whispers went 
through Hundingburg that it was a mighty wizard 


140 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


who lived under the blasted fir. Yet others said 
that it was one who came in the name of the God 
Who had given Clovis the victory, and Who was to 
be worshiped in Gaul instead of Odin and Frey. 

Hunderik growled, and when he heard of the 
wise man living alone within the tree with the two 
deer, which some affirmed to be his familiar spirits, 
he declared that he would put it to the proof. 
Roswitha threw herself before him, crying, “ O 
father, father, hurt not the holy man!” 

“By Thor’s hammer, thou art bewitched too!” 
he cried, and thrust her aside so roughly that she 
fell on the hearth, while her father strode out, call- 
ing after him his two great shaggy hounds, Fest 
and Swift, and with his Frankish battle-ax over 
his shoulder. 

She rose upon her knees, with outstretched 
hands, calling aloud on God to shield the good 
man. It was the first prayer that had found 
voice under Hunderik’s roof. 

Then, unable to bear the suspense, she rushed 
out, and found Attalus trying to force his way 
through the crowd that were looking at their mas- 
ter, hesitating a little to follow. 


THE HIND AND THE HOUNDS. 


141 

“Atli!” she exclaimed in a hasty, breathless 
whisper, “ I know the short cut over the hillock 
and marsh. Let us run on and warn him. He 
may get away into the woods and save the dear 
hind and fawn.” 

The children slipped over the rude fence on the 
farther side, and made their way, hand in hand, 
down a rocky slope, much impeded with broom 
bushes and thorns, down to the broad expanse of 
boggy ground now waving with growing grass and 
reeds, and full of golden king-cups which traced 
the streams to be avoided. Roswitha leaped and 
sprang from one tuft of rushes and willows to 
another, Attalus following her; but, haste as they 
would, speed was impossible on that uncertain 
ground, and they were still hardly among the 
stunted holly and beech which bordered the bog 
when they heard the baying of the hounds. 

Up they rushed, breathless, and forced to rest 
and to gasp at times in their journey up the slope, 
regardless of briers and bushes, and at last they 
fairly dropped at the feet of Gilchrist, who was 
returning with his bowl of water from the brook. 

“ Oh, fly, fly ! get into the wood with the deer,” 


42 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


panted out Roswitha. “ He is coming — father, with 
the dogs — ” 

“ Thanks, my child ; but why should I fly ? The 
God Whom I serve can protect me, or else take 
me to His glory.” 

“But the deer?” sighed Roswitha, with her 
arms round the pretty white neck of the fawn. 

“ His they are too,” said Gilchrist. 

The hind was out of sight. The scent and sound 
of the pursuers had given her the alarm, and she 
had bounded away into the depths of the forest; 
but the fawn, still very lame, though nearly full 
grown, kept close by his master. 

On came the sound. From the farther side of 
the gorge, with only the brook between, there 
burst the two great tawny dogs, baying in loud 
echoing notes, and close behind them followed 
Hunderik, tall and fierce, his long hair flowing from 
his winged helmet, and his ax in hand. A crowd 
of followers could be seen in the thicket behind 
him, not very solicitous to advance, for, however 
brave they might be in battle, they were quite 
uncertain what the mysterious hermit might do 
to them. There he stood on the other side, the 
small rusty-brown figure, with the white fawn by 


THE HIND AND THE HOUNDS. 


143 


his side, in front of his hollow tree, the sweeping 
branches of the other pines closing him in. 

He had thrust the children a little back with 
authority that they were too awe-struck to resist, 
and perhaps, too, neither could entirely conquer 
the recoil at the bounding forward of the two 
huge hounds Fest and Swift, both as tall as they 
were themselves. The creatures swept headlong 
down their side of the ravine, through the brook, 
then up again. 

But there, behold, they did not fall on the white 
fawn, which had shrunk close up to the hermit. 
One hand was on her head, the other raised. The 
dogs crouched at his feet and did no hurt! 

Their master raised his hunting-cry, “ Hie on!” 
The dogs pricked their ears, but the only move 
was that one came toward Roswitha to caress her, 
as she threw her arms round him and called him 
good Fest, then held out her hand to Swift. 

The question might be asked, did the hounds 
abstain because of her presence? Or was it that 
they were really wolf-hounds, not deer-hounds? 
Or was it that the entirely undaunted attitude 
and bearing of the hermit had a strange effect in 
cowing them ? 


144 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


Such things have often been in those days of 
contention between utter savagery and the gentle 
and holy, if still wild, representatives of Christian- 
ity. Were they miracles, or a divine control of 
natural causes? 

Hunderik called across the gorge, “ What dost 
thou here on my land? ” 

“ I serve the only God of heaven and earth, 
and call on others to serve Him,” returned Gil- 
christ. 

In spite of Hunderik’s shout, there was an awe 
upon him. If his dogs would have fallen on the 
deer he would have been encouraged, but the 
strangeness of the thing impressed him with some- 
thing like fear. Nor did he wish to slay or use 
violence toward the hermit. He knew that such 
doings might bring him into disgrace or trouble 
with one or other of the kings, whose attitude 
toward the Christians could never quite be calcu- 
lated. If Theudebert heard that he had chased 
away and slain a Christian hermit, it might be 
looked on as if he had killed a fox, or it might 
be met by a cast of his battle-ax. So he only 
blustered out, “ By my sufferance alone thou lurk- 
est here.” Then he shouted to his dogs, which 


THE HIND AND THE HOUNDS. 1 45 

came dashing after him at full speed, and he did 
not hear the reply of Gilchrist : 

“By the permission of my God.” 

He was gone, and all his rabble rout followed, 
while the hermit and the two children fell on their 
knees and gave thanks. 


CHAPTER XV. 


hundbert’s recovery. 

HEN Attalus and Roswitha returned 
home they found Hundingburg in a 
state of commotion. A messenger had 
arrived from King Theudebert to summon Hun- 
derik to Treves, where a council was to be held 
to decide whether there was to be a raid into the 
Gothic kingdom of Aquitania. 

The messenger was installed on a seat by the 
hearth, and Bernhild had been called off from her 
attendance on her sick child to prepare a banquet 
for him, and likewise to put in order her hus- 
band’s best array, both peaceful and warlike, for 
the expedition, so that he and his followers might 
start early the next morning. 

Little Hundbert was fretting in the arms of his 
foster-mother, and insisting by turns that his 
mother should come to him or that Valhild should 
play with him, and poor Valhild was far too 

146 



HUNDBERT'S RECOVERY. 


47 


wretched and miserable to do so with any anima- 
tion, in spite of an occasional slap or shake from 
her mother in passing for not exerting herself to 
amuse the child. When Roswitha came in she 
was greeted with a few sharp words and a blow 
for being always out of the way when wanted, 
and ordered to go and do what Valhild failed in, 
to attend to her brother while her mother was 
occupied. Roswitha sat down on a low wooden 
stool and held out her arms. Hundbert nestled 
into them, refreshed by the change. He pulled 
out all her long hair, entangled it with his own, 
tied it round his own neck, and made her endure 
a good deal; but she did so in silence, or only 
with friendly, cheerful little mutterings to him ; 
and when he began to moan again and grow rest- 
less, she sang to him in a low crooning voice, till 
finally he fell asleep in her lap, as she leaned 
against a big cask, and kept her position, stiff and 
cramped as she was, while murmuring over St. 
Patrick’s Breastplate. 

The bustle went on vehemently meantime — fur- 
bishing of armor, sharpening of swords and axes, 
packing of wallets with dried food, spreading and 
folding of garments and the like. The night’s rest 


148 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

only lasted as long as darkness made it needful, 
and by break of day the whole camp was astir, 
horses being caught, and the goods being packed 
on the backs of the more sturdy and less spirited, 
and all being set to eat a good meal, in which the 
riders followed their example. 

The sun had scarcely peeped over the fir-trees 
before all were in the saddle, Hunderik’s gilded 
wings glancing at the head of them, and the breast- 
plate, Gola’s price, shining on his bosom. 

About twenty men followed him. Bodo was 
left with half the number for the protection of the 
household, for though there was little probability 
of an attack, no one could tell what enemies might 
be in store. However, there was no great danger. 
Bernhild and her women could fight in defense of 
hearth and children almost as well as the men, 
and at the worst, if the timber-built houses were 
burned, they could retreat into the woods. So 
that it was not with much fear that they were left, 
as indeed was usually the case in the summer ; but 
Hunderik’s last words to his wife were, “ See that 
thou hast the boy well and strong for me when I 
return; an heir I must have.” 

These were words which filled the mother with 


HUNDBER T ’ S RECOVERY. 


149 


terror, not only with her burning maternal affec- 
tion for her only boy, but for the too likely conse- 
quence to a wife who gave her husband no male 
heir. It was true that the Franks were nominally 
Christian, but their hold on their religion was very 
slight, and even where the doctrines and the pious 
practices were most closely kept, the holiness and 
inviolability of marriage were very slow to be 
accepted. Even two centuries later the noted 
Charlemagne was very faulty in this respect. 
Thus Bernhild was conscious that her fair cheeks 
were growing weather-stained and rugged, and she 
had been quite startled when she caught a glimpse 
of her face in a pail of water. If her little Hund- 
bert was gone, what hold should she have on her 
husband ? 

And Hundbert pined more and more every day. 
Valhild was better, only very fractious, and often 
bringing on herself blows, for her mother was 
almost angry that a worthless maid-child should 
recover when her beautiful boy was getting weaker 
and weaker. He could not stand now, and he cried 
whenever any one touched him except his mother. 

Suddenly an idea came to her. Perhaps it was 
inspired by hearing Bodo, who in his authority was 


150 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

much sharper with the establishment than even 
his master, threaten those who stole away in the 
morning and evening to the old rogue in the 
woods, and chiefly Milo and Attalus, whom he 
accused of making all the others idle, and rated 
sorely, threatening them with the lash. 

Attalus flashed out; “ I am no slave,” he said, 
“ to be struck by a base retainer!” 

“We will see,” began Bodo; but Roswitha 
dashed at him, crying, “ He is a freeman of noble 
blood ; not to be touched. I will call my mother 
if thou layest a finger on him. O mother!” — for 
Bernhild was close on them. 

“Get away with thee, Bodo,” she said; “thou 
hast no right to threaten or chastise a free-born 
hostage of my lord’s;” nor did she listen to his 
murmurs of “ An abject Gaul,” but turning to the 
two children she exclaimed, “ Atli, Roswitha, this 
man is wise, a diviner. He saved his deer from 
the hounds. Take me to him. Mayhap he will 
heal my son.” 

“ He hates unholy magic arts,” began Attalus, 
rather imprudently ; “ but often God grants His 
servants to work wonders.” 

“ Oh ! let us take Hundbert to him, mother,” 


HUNDBERT'S RECOVERY. 15 i 

entreated Roswitha ; “ he will pray to his God 
over him and cure him.” 

Bernhild muttered a little about Frey, but though 
slow to own herself persuaded, she really longed 
after anything that could give her hope for her 
boy. She wrapped him up in a deerskin, in spite 
of his low moans, and bade the two children show 
her the way ; she would try anything. 

For weeks Hundbert had been in the atmosphere 
of peat and wood smoke, and every other variety 
of foul smell — the steam of soup, the scent of the 
stable, and, chief of all, savage human nature fry- 
ing over the fire. True, the building had much 
involuntary ventilation, but it was all carefully kept 
from him by the sides of the stall or compartment 
belonging to his parents, and at night he slept (or 
did not sleep) in his mother’s box-bed. 

When first taken out into the pure fresh spring 
air he began to gasp and cry, and his mother 
wrapped him more closely ; but presently his little 
wasted hands pushed the covering aside, and he 
drew a longer breath. He was quiet all the way, 
almost asleep, while Attalus and Roswitha sped on, 
closely followed by the anxious mother, and the 
chief of the idle household following in the rear, 


152 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

to the valley, with the brook in the green meadow, 
now bright with flowers between ; and beyond the 
steeper bank, crowned with the pine-trees. The 
two deer were feeding in the valley, and Attalus 
pointed them out as the creatures that had been 
safe from the dogs. Roswitha sped on, across the 
stepping-stones which had been placed since Gil- 
christ's hermitage had become a resort. She sprang 
up to the pilgrim in his hollow tree to warn him 
that her mother was bringing her little sick brother 
to be healed. 

Gilchrist shook his head. “ I am no saint to 
work miracles,” he said ; “ I can pray for the child, 
but his life or death is in God’s hand. Pray, pray 
with me, my children, if haply God will have 
mercy on the little one.” 

Meantime Bernhild had passed the stream and 
mounted the bank. She stood before the hermit 
with her wonted air of command. 

“ Old man,” she said, “ heal my son.” 

“ It is not in me to heal the sick,” replied Gil- 
christ, looking quite as dignified, in spite of his 
rags, his small stature, and wild locks and beard, 
as did the chieftainess. 


HUNDBER T’S RE CO VER Y. 153 

“ Thou canst not ? Then will I have thee chased 
away by dogs and servants.” 

“ I cannot heal, woman. It is not in me, but 
in my God, and He will not be commanded, but 
entreated.” 

“ Entreat Him! Oh, entreat Him, then,” cried 
Bernhild. “ I will do anything, offer anything to 
save my son!” 

“ Wilt thou give up thy pagan ways, and bring 
him up to lead a Christian life?” 

“ Yes, yes; I will never offer to Grim or Frey 
again. I will give him to be baptized in the name 
of your Christ.” 

“ Life and death are in God’s hands. The boy 
hath not been baptized?” said Gilchrist. 

“ He was born since King Clovis sent the priest,” 
said Roswitha. 

“ Thou wilt give him to be made the child of 
God ? ” said Gilchrist. 

“ I will, I will,” she cried, “ if only he may live! 
But oh,” as the hermit turned toward the stream 
below them, “ he may not brook the water! Man, 
it will go ill with thee if thou art the death of 
Hunderik’s only son and heir.” 


154 THE cook and the captive. 

“ Wilt thou have his soul saved unto everlasting 
life ? ” demanded Gilchrist, sternly. 

“ Oh, let him live! ” cried the mother, somewhat 
cowed by the tone, and amazed by seeing that 
Hundbert lay in her arms smiling, and murmured 
something faintly that sounded like content. 

She let the hermit take him from her, and the 
strong arm seemed to please him, for he murmured, 
^ Good!” 

Descending the path to the stream, Gilchrist, with 
Roswitha’s help, for the mother stood passive and 
awed, divested the child of his wrappings. They 
were hot, heavy, and stifling, and Hundbert cast 
them from him, enjoying the soft May breeze on 
his limbs ; but when Gilchrist entered the shallow 
stream, and, pronouncing the holy words, dipped 
him once, twice, thrice, in the clear limpid water, 
the first time he gave a gurgling scream, and his 
mother started forward, but before she could 
snatch him away, the three immersions had been 
made, the latter two only with the renewed ex- 
clamation of “ Good, good man!” 

“ He is the servant now of God the Christ for 
this life, and for that which is to come,” said Gil- 
christ, beginning to repeat the Lord’s Prayer in 


HUNDBERT’S RECOVERY. 


155 


his strange Latin, in which Attalus and Roswitha 
joined. The mother was drying the boy’s limbs 
but not interrupting, though to her it sounded like 
an incantation ; but the child was manifestly no 
worse, and only showed himself impatient at being 
wrapped up again. Presently he tried to sit up 
in his mother’s arms and noticed the fawn, and 
though he was so weak as to fall back again im- 
mediately, there were evident signs of the great 
oppression having left him. He asked for food, 
and Attalus brought the only things at hand, a few 
wild strawberries from the bank, which he ate with 
great enjoyment, then fell asleep, and so was 
carried home. He woke to eat, slept again, and 
insisted on being carried out into the open air. 
There he gained strength every day, and his re- 
covery was owned by all the household as a 
miracle. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


AN UNWILLING MISSIONARY. 

ILCHRIST’S fame was established in 
Hundingburg, and there was a resort to 
him, not only of the various people of 
the household, but those from a distance, most of 
them expecting him to cure their children, and 
offering him gifts of all kinds — calves, kids, young 
horses, baskets of wood-strawberries, even collars 
and bracelets of gold. 

He would accept none of the gifts, hardly even 
food for the day ; yet his two deer had deserted 
him, whether driven away by the concourse, or 
invited by the blandishments of their own kind, 
for a great stag had appeared on the opposite side 
of the valley. Gilchrist consented to pray over 
the sick, and the mothers held that they re- 
covered ; but he was more willing to teach and to 
answer questions, though even that was very re- 
luctantly done. His real delight was in solitude 
i5 6 



AN UNWILLING MISSIONARY. 157 

and in higher communings, and he wandered 
farther and farther into the depths of the forest, 
to avoid these interviews, as his lame foot was, at 
last, thoroughly healing. One morning Milo, who 
had thought to be so early that he could not es- 
cape, found no sign of him ; and repeated visits 
from Attalus, Roswitha, and others of his newer 
admirers failed to find him. He had vanished as 
strangely as he had come, but the effect of his 
presence had not been entirely thrown away. 
Attalus had returned to the endeavor to keep up 
his better habits, and Roswitha and Milo equally 
desired to do so. They regularly said with him 
the prayers and Creed that he had taught them, 
and when it was possible he told them the sacred 
history of the gospel as it came back to his 
memory. 

Nor was there any more obstruction from Bern- 
hild. She did not listen, but she never interfered 
to separate the children, except that, as summer 
advanced, Attalus had to be out with the horses 
all day as before. It was Valhild who most dis- 
turbed them. She held that there was much 
more amusement in the stories of Odin and Thor 
than in theirs. She liked to think of Frey flying 


158 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

over the grass and scattering the shining gos- 
samer; and she believed when it thundered 
that Thor was wielding his hammer, and often 
threatened Roswitha that it would descend on her 
in anger for forsaking the gods of her fathers. 
She was constantly teasing her sister for loving 
the gods of the serfs and slaves, instead of the 
gods of the free conquerors; and there were a 
good many quarrels in consequence, for Roswitha 
had not learned forbearance as a Christian duty, 
though she was naturally more gentle than her 
sister. The rest of the household were little 
affected, except Bodo, who scorned it all. He 
held Hundbert’s cure to be all a matter of 
woman’s fancy, and declared that Gilchrist’s 
sudden departure proved him to be the impostor 
he was, a mere sham wizard who had fled from 
fear of being found out. Respect for his absent 
lord withheld him from absolutely ill-treating At- 
talus, but he kept the boy strictly to the herding 
of the horses, never allowed him to sleep or eat 
in the house, and prevented his speaking to Ros- 
witha whenever he could without her appealing to 
her mother. To Milo he was very severe and 
cruel, and kept him herding the horned cattle in- 


AN UNWILLING MISSIONARY. 159 

stead of the horses, so that he could hardly ever 
exchange a word with Attalus. 

The cloud that had seemed to lighten for a 
short interval had descended more heavily than 
ever. 

Moreover, Hunderik sent a message home by a 
party of his men who were to bring back some 
fresh horses. The old villain of a bishop had de- 
clared that his grandson was no longer bound, 
seeing that Tullium and Nasium were delivered 
up to King Theudebert ; but was it to be supposed 
that he would let the hostage go without a ran- 
som, a handsome payment from the old fellow’s 
treasure and church plate? No, indeed! Let 
Bernhild and Bodo watch him more closely than 


ever. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A DETERMINED PILGRIM. 

ILCHRIST did actually appear again at 
the house of Bishop Gregory. Long 
had all hope of him been given up, and 
there were absolute shrieks of welcome when the 
porter recognized him, many degrees more ragged 
than when he had gone away, leaner and more 
long than ever, and dirty enough to afford any 
amount of penitential washing to devotees; but 
looking under his freckles infinitely more bright 
and healthful and full of vigor. 

“ Here he was, here was the Celtic pilgrim ; not 
eaten by the wolves ! Had he really seen young 
Attalus ? What news did he bring of him ? ” 
Cornelius, satisfied of the young lord’s life and 
health by the first answers, would fain have re- 
moved the upper coating of dust and dirt before 
taking him to the Bishop — a proceeding which the 
Irishman thought to savor of worldly luxury. 

160 



A DETERMINED PILGRIM . l6l 

Gregory was far too anxious to wait for these ab- 
lutions — but Tetricus came to summon the pilgrim 
immediately. 

“The boy is well, though among folk little 
better than heathen; he hath not forgotten his 
prayers.” 

“ For that I thank the Lord! Is he grown? ” 

“ So grown that I scarce knew him.” 

“ Is he well cared for?” 

“ He is cared for more than the sons of our 
chiefs at home; though,” as Gilchrist gazed round 
on the dainty garments and furniture of the 
household, “ mayhap you would not think so ; 
but he is in health, and hardship and abasement 
are better for his soul.” 

“Abasement?” Tetricus asked, anxiously. 

“ They have set him to herd the horses and 
dwell with the slaves,” answered Gilchrist. 

“ Barbarian treatment of a noble hostage,” mut- 
tered Tetricus, while there was a general groan 
from all the household who had pressed into the 
hall to listen. 

“ Only what we Romans have to endure in rec- 
ompense for the pride which made us call ours 
the Lady of Nations,” sighed Gregory. “ But it 


1 62 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

is sad that it has fallen on my dear child thus 
early. And you helped him, good pilgrim?” 

“ I hope so, my lord ; yea, I believe verily that 
God has given to him the soul of his comrade, a 
Gallic slave, and likewise of the daughter of Hun- 
derik, a child of towardly disposition. Verily, a 
great door is opened in those hills and forests to 
one who would abide there and show them the 
way of life.” 

This was the chief of what could be extracted 
from Gilchrist. Of the supposed miracles that he 
had wrought he said not a word, and when asked 
whether he were not going back to profit by the 
great opportunity before him of saving souls, and 
winning a whole population to the Kingdom of 
Christ, he shook his head, and said there were too 
many of them, they thronged him, and since his 
foot was well, and the season served, he must ful- 
fill his vow and make his way to the home of the 
saints at Rome. Bishop Gregory even offered to 
ordain him and send him back to minister to these 
Franks; but he said he was unworthy and that he 
could not be stayed upon his way. 

There was a sort of selfishness about some of 
those Celtic hermit saints, whose curious and much 


A DETERMINED PILGRIM. 163 

travestied names are scattered about all over 
France, Germany, and Italy. Some, and those 
chiefly from Iona, were really missionaries and 
founders of churches, and their memory is still 
green, as in the case of St. Gall, St. Columban, 
and others; but many cared for nothing appar- 
ently but to be alone with heaven and to live the 
severest of lives as anchorites, keeping aloof those 
who were irresistibly attracted to them, and some- 
times moving out of the reach of such intercourse, 
leaving the world to run on its way, so that they 
might save their own souls from contact with evil. 

Such was Gilchrist. It was even a wonder that 
he had turned out of the direct road to the Alps 
(if he knew it) to enlighten Bishop Gregory re- 
specting his grandson. The idea of converting 
the Frank settlement of Hundingburg had no at- 
traction for him, and he was bent on continuing 
his journey. He allowed his worn-out garment to 
be changed for one not ragged, nor in such a state 
that the Roman household were divided as to 
whether it should be burned for its foulness or 
revered for its sanctity ; but Leo settled the 
matter by taking it up with his tongs and poking 
it into the hottest pigeon-hole of his stove, ob- 


1 64 THE cook and the captive. 


serving as he did so that nothing should ever per- 
suade him that what was uncleanly was holy in 
the sight of heaven. 

Gilchrist had by that time disappeared without 
a word of farewell, and the guards of the town 
gates reported that he had been at the southern 
one long before the hour for opening it, and as 
soon as exit was permitted had been seen walking 
stoutly on his way, staff in hand. 

Nor did Bishop Gregory ever trace him again, 
unless he could have been a certain pilgrim who 
was reported to have dragged himself to the tomb 
of St. Peter, and there to have been found lying 
dead, with a look of ecstasy on his worn face. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

FRIEDHOLM. 

ILCHRIST’S brief sojourn had been 
the first information received at Lang- 
res respecting the exile since Gola’s 
arrival, except that it was known that Tullium and 
Nasium had been delivered up to King Theude- 
bert. Bishop Gregory, therefore, on going to 
carry his yearly tribute to King Hildebert at 
Paris, made request that his grandson might be 
reclaimed with the other hostages. But Hilde- 
bert replied through some of his Frankish counts 
that he could not trouble his nephew about such 
trifles; and the only encouragement the poor 
Bishop had was hearing that several lads who 
lived near the borders had either made their 
escape or been ransomed. Garfried of the Blue 
Sword was likewise at Hildebert’s spring muster 
of his feudatories, and he undertook to attempt to 
165 



1 66 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

obtain the boy’s release. But he was obliged to 
send a trusty priest to Gregory to tell him that 
Theudebert declared that he had given Hunderik 
the hostage to make what he could of him, and 
he would not interfere. To Hunderik, then, Gar- 
fried betook himself, and received in answer a 
monstrous demand of a large sum of gold for the 
captive. This it was impossible for Gregory to 
raise. The plate that still had been left to him 
did not amount to a quarter of the sum, and his 
own estates had been exhausted by the tribute 
and by feeding his poor in the winter. He would 
have only enough for his household till the har- 
vest and vintage were over in the ensuing autumn. 

As he sat considering with Tetricus and Corne- 
lius to how much his few personal possessions 
would amount if Hunderik would bargain for 
them, there was a knock at the door, and Leo 
entered, making a low obeisance. “ Sir,” said he, 
“ if your Clemency will grant me leave, I hope to 
bring home young Attalus.” 

He would not tell them his plans; in fact, 
they doubted what definite ones he had; but 
the Bishop trusted him entirely, and, somewhat 
against the opinion of Tetricus, granted his re- 


FRIED HOLM. 

quest, and gave him leave of absence for as long 
as he might find it necessary. 

Cornelius augured that they would never see 
him again, and others of the household reminded 
him that the life of a slave was almost worthless 
among the Franks. 

“ Of a slave, maybe,” said Leo, “ but not of a 
good cook. You will find out what I am worth 
when you have only Rhys to send up your meals.” 

“ What do the barbarians care for the art of 
cookery? ” 

“ Have you never seen them smack their lips 
over his Clemency’s table ? ” demanded Leo. 

He packed up a basketful of his implements 
and spices, and made ready to start in company 
with Garfried’s messenger, who bore various gifts 
from Baldrik to his brother and sister, and tidings 
that he was well and happy, and could read and 
write the Latin as well as the Bishop himself. 

Friedholm, Garfried’s abode, was only a long 
day’s journey from Langres on a Roman road. 
It had once been the station of a Roman outpost, 
and the buildings remained in part, though some 
were fire-scathed and black, showing where they 
had been seized by the Burgundians, Garfried’s 


1 68 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

own house was much like Hundingburg, and also 
had two horses’ heads at the end of the beams; 
but all was neater and more civilized, and there 
was a small erection near with a cross on the 
gable, which showed that here was Christianity. 

The approach of the messenger was signified by 
the blowing of a horn, and all the household 
poured out to hear the tidings of Baldrik, includ- 
ing Garfried himself and his eldest son, just come 
in from the chase, and the priest of the little 
settlement. They rejoiced to hear of the absent 
son, and of Gregory, and then looked with amaze- 
ment at Leo. 

“ Hast thou bought thy freedom,” asked Gar- 
fried, “and come to dwell with me?” 

“ Not so, noble sir ; but I am come to show thee 
this token that thou wert so good as to give me, 
and to entreat you by it to sell me to Hunderik.” 

“ Thee ! — and thy master? ” 

“ I have his permission, and I am certain that 
thus I could procure the escape of young At- 
talus.” 

“ Thou art a faithful fellow ; but I fear me much 
that Hunderik will have no dealings with me. He 
was much angered with me for bringing him the 


FRIEDHOLM. 


169 


proposals of Gregory, and representing to him that 
he had no right to keep the hostage after the cities 
have been delivered up. In truth it was not so 
easy to keep him and this youth ” — pointing to 
his son Friedbald — “ from coming to blows.” 

“Ay,” said Friedbald, “thou wouldst never 
have hindered me but that the old schelm de- 
murred when I said the boy should be the prize 
of the fight.” 

“ Well that he did. Thou, a stripling scarce 
bearing a man’s armor, to stand up against him, a 
warrior of proof! ” 

“ God would have been against the old traitor,” 
responded Friedbald. 

“ And whichever way it went there would have 
been blood feud,” responded his father. 

Leo looked from one to the other while the de- 
bate was going on, and presently the father turned 
to him. “ I say not that I may not find the way 
to serve thee, but I must take time to consider of 
the means. So sit thee down to rest and to eat, 
and take thy night’s sleep here, at any rate, and 
we will see what betides.” 

Leo was weary and hungry enough to be glad 
of the invitation, though it irked his spirit to see 


1 70 the cook and the captive . 

the miscellaneous contents of the barbarian cal- 
dron, and he could not help asking leave to demon- 
strate how the beautiful bustard that the hunters 
had brought in should be dressed. 

Garfried smacked his lips at the notion, and de- 
clared that now his people would see what food 
ought to be like. So the next day Leo made all 
his preparations, and was very happy and busy 
over them, excepting for the lack of various vege- 
tables that he was accustomed to cherish in the 
gardens at Autun and Langres ; and moreover he 
was concerned that none of the Burgundians, ex- 
cept Garfried, were inclined to think his prepara- 
tions anything but useless trouble, declaring that 
food was just as good and wholesome without so 
much pains, and that no wonder the Gauls were 
such poor creatures if they spent so much time 
and pains over their meals, and made men folk do 
what was the proper work of the women. Nay, 
the priest even declared that it must be a mistake 
that the Bishop of Langres was a saint if he used 
such dainty meats at his table ; and Leo had to 
rebut the charge hotly, and declare that when his 
master had the most savory dishes before him, 


FRIEDHOLM. 


171 

he — to Leo’s grief — would eat nothing but the 
driest of barley bread, and that he had a glass 
colored to represent wine, when he drank only 
water ; but he kept this festive table for the many 
visitors, the kings and chiefs, and especially the 
senators and magistrates, who expected to be well 
entertained, to say nothing of the clergy, who 
were not ascetics when out visiting at any rate. 
However, on them Leo was judiciously silent, and 
he had full justice done to him when he served up 
the bustard, accompanied by doves, in such sort 
as a Roman emperor of old need not have de- 
spised and Garfried and his guests could not help 
enjoying. 

After some consultation, Garfried summoned 
him. “ See here, Leo,” said he, “ thou hast 
dressed us a banquet fit for the Caesar himself, or 
for a better man, the King of the Ostrogoths. 
Pity that such skill should go and bury itself 
among the wild Franks of the mountains.” 

“ I trust not to tarry there long, valiant chief,” 
answered Leo. 

“ Seest thou? Hunderik has a dainty tooth, 
and never comes to Treves or any Roman town 


172 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

but he well-nigh eats the merchants and cooks out 
of house and home. Now, he will mistrust any 
offer from me, knowing me to be linked in friend- 
ship with the holy Bishop Gregory; but King 
Theudebert has a muster and council at Treves, to 
which I and my guests are bound, and whither, no 
doubt, Hunderik will come. To Treves thou 
shalt go with me, and I will take thee to the 
cook’s shop that he frequents, to one Aulus Plau- 
tius, and bid him to offer to sell thee to Hunderik. 
He will be willing enough, and will no doubt 
know how to explain matters so as not to make 
Hunderik suspicious.” 

Leo agreed to this, not only with the submission 
of one always used to bow to the will of others, 
but as convinced that it was the best hope ; and 
he spent the remainder of his time in Friedholm 
with more liberty than he had ever possessed, 
practicing his art only enough to gratify the palate 
of the chief, and employing his leisure in learning 
something of the manners and habits of the bar- 
barians, though he was warned that he would find 
matters very different at Hundingburg from this 
place, where there was an attempt at enforcing 
Christian practice and the Burgundian law, which 


FRIEDHOLM. 


1 73 


was more civilized than that of the Sicambrian 
Franks. For though Hundingburg was in Theu- 
debert’s kingdom, and he was called King of Bur- 
gundy, Hunderik and his men were Franks of the 
Yssel. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


A FRANKISH EPICURE. 



muster at Treves, to which, a year 
before, Attalus owed his captivity, was 
really the assembly of the “ theudes,” 
or nobles, the chief men of the people, such as 
was the practice of all the nations of Teutonic 
blood. It was the great Council, without which 
the kings could not act, which decided on war or 
peace, settled disputes, imposed fines for crimes, 
and sometimes ended the blood feuds ; being, in 
fact, the germ of parliaments, though known by 
many different names. 

Garfried was in esteem there, as being quite as 
brave as, but possessing more wisdom than, the 
wilder warriors, and King Theudebert was apt to 
show him a certain deference, which was, perhaps, 
the cause of Hunderik’s dislike of him. He 
thought it prudent to encamp (more properly 
bivouac) most of his followers in branch huts and 
i74 


A FRANKISH EPICURE. 


175 


remnants of hovels outside the town, and only 
entered under the grand old heavy-browed Roman 
gateway with four or five ax-bearers to assert his 
dignity, taking Leo with him. 

Treves was still internally a thorough Roman 
town, as much so as Autun or Langres, governed 
by its bishop and senator, and except at these 
meetings in the Forum, which were regarded with 
dread as visitations, as quiet a Roman colony as 
when St. Athanasius spent the time of his banish- 
ment there. Even the Burgundian and now the 
Frank kings respected the walls too much, and the 
wealth and the civilization, to attempt to sack the 
place, since it was an established idea with them 
that the Gallic cities were geese which laid golden 
eggs and must not be too much disturbed. 

Merchants still managed to exist and to travel 
with their wares from one station to another, and 
as jewels, silk attire, and spices were esteemed, as 
well as rich armor and other goods, specimens 
were displayed for sale cautiously on the stalls in 
front of the strongly built houses, with cellars 
rather like those long used in Scotland, where the 
seller and his goods might retreat from overeager 
and violent customers. Indeed, the more pre- 


I 76 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 

cious articles were sometimes only figured on the 
walls, advertisement fashion, as may still be seen 
at Pompeii, though there the enemy was not the 
barbarian, but nature. 

At one of these shops, where a dish with a 
great roast crane with spits sticking in it, a pea- 
cock’s tail, and a lobster were figured on the walls, 
and on a table in front were displayed a pile of 
oysters and another of snails, Garfried halted and 
called for Aulus Plautius, neglecting the little 
slave boy who was in charge. 

A close-clipped black Roman head was uplifted 
on the stone stair. 

“ Ha! friend Aulus, canst give me a dinner? I 
have ridden from Friedholm since dawn, and I 
need some sustenance ere meeting King Theude- 
bert.” 

“ At thy will, valorous Count. Here are steaks 
from a stately hart just brought in from the 
Vosges by a Frank hunter; or rabbits flavored 
in Italian mode; or, in ten minutes’ time, there 
will be the leg of a calf roasted with oysters.” 

“ For that I have scarce time to wait,” said 
Garfried, descending the steps and being led to 
the back of the house to a tiled room, having one 


A FRANKISH EPICURE. 


1 77 


side open to a vine-clad veranda with a garden 
beyond, and with tables with the couches for 
three, in Italian fashion, set on three sides of 
them. One end of the room communicated with 
the kitchen, furnished with pigeon-holed stoves of 
brick, like Leo’s own, whence came a delicious 
odor for hungry men. Leo’s heart warmed to the 
sight and scent, but he stood discreetly behind his 
master to wait upon him, while Garfried settled 
himself, but with his feet on the ground, not en- 
joying the reclining fashion. 

Steaming dishes and cups of wine were carried 
in turn to Garfried, and were carved with his 
dagger, while he detained the master beside him, 
and after due compliments he asked, “ Does Hun- 
derik frequent this place as heretofore?” 

“ Hunderik of Hundingburg? Oh yes ; he never 
comes to a muster without gorging himself over 
my table, though he does not know a daintily fed, 
chestnut-fatted swine’s ham from that of a boar 
fed on the city’s garbage.” 

“ Is he yet arrived? ” 

“ I think not, sir, but he is certain to be here 
before night.” 

“ I want thee to do me a good turn. Thou 


I 78 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

seest this dark-skinned slave? He is a cook as 
good as is here except thyself. Thou mayest 
prove him. I want thee to induce Hunderik to 
purchase him without naming my name/’ 

“ Hunderik! Hath he committed a crime that 
thy countship would pass him on to that wild bar- 
barian? " 

“ Not at all. He is a thoroughly trustworthy 
good Christian man, but such sale suits my pur- 
poses and his." 

“ And Hunderik alone will serve the purpose ? 
For I could find a better master, who would give 
a better price ; if, indeed, Hunderik will give any 
price at all." 

“ That is not the point. The need is that this 
man should be in Hunderik’s service." 

“ May I know whence he comes? " 

“ Better that thou shouldst be ignorant. The 
need is that he should be sold to Hunderik, and 
without mention of me. Whatever price Hunderik 
gives shall be thine own, Aulus, if thou wilt stand 
our friend and be discreet." 

“ And what explanation shall I give ? " asked 
the cook. 

“ What thou wilt. Thine invention will be the 


A FRANKISH EPICURE. 


179 


freer for knowing nothing,” said Garfried, smiling. 
“ Meantime, I will leave Leo here to give thee a 
taste of his skill ; but I shall remain at hand, and 
come back after the Council has broken up to see 
how thou hast succeeded.” 

Perhaps it was a part of the discretion that Gar- 
fried attributed to Aulus that he asked no more 
questions, and did not mention his own conviction 
that here was some stratagem. He did not think 
that it could be a plan of Garfried’s for poisoning 
his enemy, though such proceedings were not by 
any means unknown among the Franks and Bur- 
gundians of the sixth century; but they were 
chiefly the work of the women, and Garfried’s 
character stood unusually high for honorable pro- 
ceedings. But when he remembered that Hun- 
derik was said to have a noble Roman hostage 
belonging to the Bishop of Langres in his keep- 
ing, Aulus winked once or twice with his left eye 
and had his suspicions. 

He was too busy to interrogate Leo all the even- 
ing, for parties of Franks flowed in, ate and drank, 
and continued their orgies till late at night, and 
throughout all Leo was such an efficient helper 
that Aulus groaned and sighed over the notion of 


180 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

his being thrown away upon a barbarian, and felt 
that there must be some grave cause for parting 
with a treasure whom he longed to retain. 

Hunderik was not long in swaggering in to drink 
a cup of wine and declare that, though he should 
eat of the King’s feast at the Roman palace the 
next day, he should nevertheless take a final ban- 
quet on the good things in which Aulus excelled 
all others. 

In two days’ time he came, and sundry friends 
with him. They threw down their axes, ungirt 
their swords, loosed their breastplates, and called 
for wine and meat. Aulus and Leo were ready 
with a huge side of fat and highly spiced pork, 
flavored up to the pitch which they knew was 
most gratifying to the barbarian palate. 

“ Now there,” cried Hunderik, uplifting a lump 
dripping with oil and adorned with garlic on his 
dagger — “ there’s a morsel for a man ! Yet I may 
rate my senseless Frau forever, and nothing will 
hinder her from sending me the flesh either burned 
to a cinder or sodden so as to be fit only for the 
dogs, with the meat like strings of hemp in the 
midst.” 

He spoke as men do who eat at club and mess 


A FRANKISH EPICURE. i8l 

tables better food than their wives at home know 
how to provide. 

But Aulus had his answer. “ What wouldst 
thou give me, sir, for the man who prepared this 
mess? ” 

“ Give thee ? Half the slaves I have. Give 
thee? It would not be much to give thee my 
wife and two daughters into the bargain,” cried 
Hunderik. 

“ Nay, but what wouldst thou give in good 
sooth?” said Aulus. 

“ Art in earnest?” 

“ Truly I am. I have the man here, a half- Moor- 
ish slave by his looks, and am willing to come to 
terms with thee for him.” 

“ And wherefore part with so rare a cook ? 
Hath he been brawling and slain any — not half of 
his own worth, I trow?” asked Hunderik, laugh- 
ing. “A firebrand in thy kitchen, mayhap?” 

“ Not so, sir. He is a peaceable man so far as 
I have seen. He has evidently lived in great 
Roman houses, and been accustomed to their 
ways.” 

“Ha! a runaway, whom you do not want to 
keep? ” laughed Hunderik. “ Let me see him.” 


1 82 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


“Hola! Leo! Come and show yourself to 
the valiant and noble lord.” 

Leo came, bearing with him a delicious dish of 
salmon dressed with onions according to the ap- 
proved taste. 

“ Ha! a black-looking fellow. Stout limbs those 
for housework. Where hast thou served, fellow? ” 

“ In the house of a senator, noble sir,” replied 
Leo, standing in a most submissive attitude after 
he had set down the dish. 

“ A senator ? What senator ? ” 

“ The Senator of Aurelianum,” said Leo, going 
back to the household of Gregory’s father, “ the 
noble Marcus Attalus Decius,” giving all with a 
much more Gallic accent than that with which he 
usually spoke the language of the Franks. 

“ Ah ! and thou hast left him ? Or has a stout 
Frank carried thee off? Those Gauls have their 
wily cranks for revenging themselves. Here, let 
me feel thine arms. Stout flesh and muscle here. 
Open thy mouth, I would see thy teeth.” 

“ He will have more to do with thy teeth than 
with his own,” put in Aulus. 

Hunderik’s Frankish wit appreciated the joke, 
and it ended in the bargaining beginning. Aulus 


A FRANKISH EPICURE. 


183 


was, of course, determined that Leo should be 
sold, and chiefly wanted to escape suspicion by 
not accepting a price too easily; while, on the 
other hand, Hunderik was much afraid of some- 
body else coming in and securing this valuable 
artist, whom he believed firmly to be the lawful 
property of some great Gallo-Roman, either a 
runaway or a piece of stolen goods, such as it was 
expedient to shelter in the Frank mountains as far 
as possible from civilization. He therefore con- 
cluded his arrangements, weighing out to Aulus 
all his available gold, twelve pieces, bestowing on 
him all his furs and skins, and the cattle that his 
shepherds had driven up, and even an able-bodied 
young slave, and giving his pledge for two more 
swine of next season. 


CHAPTER XX. 


DOMESTIC CAVILS. 

EO was mounted behind one of the slaves 
who had brought Hunderik’s skins and 
wool for sale to Treves. He asked no 
questions on the way through the forest and moun- 
tains, but looked warily about him and studied the 
route. 

In due time they arrived at Hundingburg, where 
wife, children, followers, dogs, and goats all poured 
out to meet the master. Little Hundbert was 
looking sturdy and healthy, and cried out for joy 
when his father lifted him up. Bernhild and her 
two daughters received a cursory greeting, and 
Bernhild’s first inquiry was, “ had he brought her 
the scarlet robe he had promised? ” 

“ I have brought thee a better thing, housewife,” 
was his answer. “ Here is a man who can serve 
up a leg of an old cow so that you would take it 
for the haunch of a prime stag, and make you broth 

184 



DOMESTIC CAVILS . 


185 

that would serve the heroes in Valhalla. Here, 
Leo, what call they thee? To him thou must 
give the charge of thy caldron and thy hearth. ,, 

Bernhild burst into angry tears. “Was ever 
such charge given to an honorable housewife? 
Leave my hearth to a foul, black-visaged Gallic 
slave, indeed!” 

“ Yea, and condescend to learn his ways, or it 
shall be the worse for thee. Thou mayest be 
glad enough that it is not a fresh wife that I have 
brought home. Alftrude, the daughter of Wolf- 
ram, is fairer and fresher.” 

Bernhild began to weep and exclaim what a true 
and faithful wife she had been, and Leo was glad 
enough to fall back from this domestic scene while 
Bodo showed him the corner of the great building 
where he would sleep upon a heap of fern and 
heather, and bestow the rug and the very few 
clothes that he had brought with him. Of Attalus 
he saw nothing, and he durst not ask. He was 
called up by and by to partake of the leavings 
from Bernhild’s great caldron, and it must be con- 
fessed that he thought Hunderik excused for his 
objections. 

Other large bowlfuls were carried out to the 


i86 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


various servants and herdsmen who came in from 
the hills with their cattle, and as Leo stood at the 
door he fancied that he had a glimpse of Attalus, 
riding home a colt as the other horses were driven 
into their inclosure, but he could not make sure — 
the figure was taller, and the hair was so unlike 
the delicately curled and combed locks in which 
poor old Gola had taken such pride. Soon he was 
called up to make a bowl of the broth eatable for 
Hunderik, while Bernhild sulked apart, and banged 
all the stools and bits of armor that fell in her 
way, muttering, and truly, that hunger used to 
prepare her husband to think her cookery quite 
good enough for him before he learned to go and 
gormandize among the greedy Gauls and Romans. 

She called off her two daughters and all her 
women with her, and looked on contemptuously 
from a distance. 

Presently Hunderik, smacking his lips, called 
on her to taste the soup that Leo had cleared and 
flavored for him, and the ill-baked and kneaded 
lumps of dough that had been converted into 
something crisp and fresh. 

She tossed her head, saying she wanted no 
Gallic dainties, and she supposed that he meant 


DOMESTIC CAVILS. 187 

his son to be as feeble and tender as the Romans 
— for Hundbert was sitting on his knee with a lit- 
tle cake in his hand, swallowing alternate spoon- 
fuls from the bowl, and exclaiming, “ Good, good! 
More, more!” after each. 

Hunderik vouchsafed only a savage growl at the 
perverseness of women, conveying a warning to 
Bernhild to take care not to provoke him too far. 

Presently he called to Leo and said, “ Canst thou 
dress me a Roman dinner, such as I have eaten at 
Paris and Soissons ? ” 

“ I can send up a feast that would serve an 
emperor. I can dress a banquet with any one,” 
said Leo, who knew that modesty would not suc- 
ceed. 

“ Sunday is four days hence,” returned Hun- 
derik, after reckoning on his fingers. “ On that 
day my friends and my kindred come to feast with 
me. Send them up such a banquet that they may 
be amazed and say, ' We have found nothing so 
good or so grand at the King’s own table.’ ” 

Leo bowed and said, “ Let my master provide 
me plenty of meat, especially of winged fowl, and 
he shall be fully obeyed.” 

For the next few days Leo was closely em- 


1 88 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

ployed. He judged it better neither by word nor 
look to endeavor to establish any understanding 
with Attalus until he had gained the confidence 
and favor of his master ; so after having once satis- 
fied himself that Attalus was a strong and healthy 
lad he took no further notice of him, but applied 
himself to the sending up of Hunderik’s Roman 
feast — no easy matter in the absence of all the 
apparatus to which he was accustomed as abso- 
lutely necessary to his art, and the difficulty was 
all the greater as the few vessels and implements 
that the place possessed were sullenly withheld 
from him by the mistress of the establishment. 

Male slaves were, however, at his disposal, and 
with their help he managed to contrive ovens in 
the earth, and even to burn wood into charcoal 
sufficiently for his purposes, while his master and 
the hunters, with spears, arrows, and snares, were 
bringing down a miscellaneous collection of flesh, 
fowl, and fish, so much that all one day had to be 
spent in flaying and plucking the spoil, while a few 
of the women, at Hunderik’s express command, 
were grinding wheat for the flour for the cakes, 
and their children were seeking for eggs. 

And a feast it was ! It was midsummer and the 


DOMESTIC CAVILS. 


189 

weather was cloudless, so there was no difficulty in 
placing the tables outside the house in the great 
yard, which Leo had contrived with difficulty 
should be cleaned up for the occasion. Boards 
were spread, supported on trestles. Their cover- 
ing, well known to Roman use, they could not 
have, but nobody missed it, especially as bowls of 
strawberries, loaves of bread, rounds of cheese, and 
lengths of butter were placed on green leaves and 
ranged at short intervals along the table wherever 
the dishes were not to go. The dishes were, in a 
few cases, of silver, the rest rude crocks ; the plates 
were trenchers, and there were bowls of various 
sizes and materials — silver, wood, brass, tin, or 
crockery — for the liquids. 

The company began to pour in — great harsh- 
faced warriors, with tall helmets and tawny beards ; 
older men, with white beards and streaming hoary 
locks, limping and leaning on their spears ; young 
“ theudes ” in all the fair glory of Teutonic beauty, 
a few darker ones in whom the Belgian blood was 
mixed. Little boys ran about their fathers, or 
herded in groups, and a band of women had got 
together, shining, like their husbands, with gold 
chains and embroidered breastplates, and all, ex- 


190 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

cept a few worn and withered old hags, fair and 
handsome, as if there were no middle age. The 
numbers were far greater than the tables would 
hold, and the ladies dined apart with Bernhild, 
and most of them, especially the elders, sym- 
pathized with her wrongs, and agreed that they 
would not suffer their rule to be invaded by a 
miserable Gallic black-faced slave. 

Leo had some experience of Frankish appetites 
and had prepared accordingly, but he watched 
with amazement the quantities devoured by this 
voracious party, who seemed never to have done 
sending for fresh relays of pork, beef, mutton, 
hares and rabbits, and all kinds of winged fowl. 
Happily Leo and his assistants were able to re- 
spond to all, sending the more elaborately dressed 
meats, really fit for Roman banquets, to those who 
could appreciate them, and others to the ruder 
tastes. 

Wine and beer flowed in the same proportion, 
and a good many guests sank down and slept long 
before they were conducted home by their slaves 
or their wives in the light of the ensuing morning. 

Hunderik was fully satisfied. Every one had 
declared that such a banquet had never before 


DOMESTIC CAVILS. 


191 

been held in the mountains, and they compli- 
mented Hunderik on the possession of such a 
slave. 

Yet more than one acute Burgundian shook his 
head, and declared that such a gifted slave would 
not have been sold into the mountains for noth- 
ing, and advised their host to be on the lookout 
against treachery. 

The ladies spoke even more strongly. They 
agreed with Bernhild that he could be there for 
no good purpose. They peeped at his dark face, 
and shuddered. Such as had floating notions of 
Christianity said he was no doubt in league with 
the Evil One ; another, more of a Pagan, declared 
that Loki had sent him from Nifelheim! and the 
old lady who was reputed to be the wisest, and a 
century back would have been honored as a Vel- 
leda, or prophetess, seriously warned the anxious 
housewife that this blackamoor might have been 
sent by the perfidious Romans to poison her hus- 
band. 

Hunderik laughed at all she told him, but it had 
the effect of making him for a time watchful over 
Leo, who found he could not stir without Bodo or 
some one else watching him and making sure of 


192 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 

all the ingredients he put into the messes he pre- 
pared for his master, also observing with whom he 
conversed. He therefore thought it wiser to utter 
no word of Attalus, nor to endeavor to see him 
till time should have laid all suspicions to rest. 

Indeed, Attalus himself was out of reach, for all 
the younger horses not in use had been sent out 
to the more distant pastures, where a sort of camp 
had been arranged to watch over them, and in huts 
formed of turf or branches of trees Milo, Attalus, 
and others spent their time in preventing them 
from straying too far, or falling a prey to any 
beasts of the forest. They catered for themselves 
a good deal with snares, bows and arrows, and 
hunting-spears, but one or two servants were sent 
once a week to Hundingburg for leathern bottles 
of beer and cakes of rye bread. 

Attalus enjoyed this life of hunting and of free- 
dom ; he was happy with Milo and with the others 
who had not forgotten Gilchrist’s teaching. Daily 
they met, and chanted together, morning and even- 
ing, their hymns and prayers, and were fairly happy 
together. Only now and then, if the weather was 
bad, a fit of homesickness would come over the lad, 
of longing for his grandfather’s face, his uncle’s 


DOMESTIC CAVILS. 


193 


words, and the petting of his playmate Leo beside 
the stove ; or even for something nearer at hand, 
a little talk with the gentle Roswitha. In general, 
he felt as if he had been a whole lifetime on the 
heath herding the horses, and as if nothing else 
were before him. 

Some rumors had come up to him of his mas- 
ter having bought a wonderful slave, who cooked 
dinners fit for Odin’s hall, and it made him declare, 
“ Ah ! you do not guess what our good slave Leo 
could do. You would not beat him nor his dainty 
cakes. Would that I could taste them!” 

“ All sauces and spices to suit your Gothic pal- 
ates, with frogs and dormice,” retorted his Frank- 
ish listener. “ This fellow sends us pig stuffed with 
chestnut, flavored with garlic! Ah! Thou wilt 
see when we go back — that is, if Hunderik thinks 
thee worthy of a taste.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


GILCHRIST’S PUPIL. 

EO, having assured himself of the safety 
of Attalus, thought it better to wait, 
win the confidence of his master, and 
gain some knowledge of the place and its environs, 
so as to know the best way to escape when the 
time should come. 

Hunderik continued to delight in his prepara- 
tions, and gradually liked him better and better, 
as it was discovered that he knew how to catch as 
well as to cook his game, and was a bold and cun- 
ning hunter. Besides, he knew how to deal out 
stores of provision with method instead of waste, 
and gradually Hunderik committed to his charge 
the victuals to be dealt out to every one of the 
retainers and slaves, and to feed the live stock. 

This was a dreadful offense to Bernhild, the 
housewife and dispenser of bread, and she con- 
tinued to hate and distrust the stranger, and to 
194 



GILCHRIST'S PUPIL. 


195 


eat nothing that he provided, but set up a little 
hearth of her own, and she would fain have with- 
held her children from him. Valhild held with her, 
and called him a vile traitor and enemy ; but little 
Hundbert could not but like to sit on his father’s 
knee and devour the dainties from his trencher, 
and no calls from his mother, nor even her blows, 
and the angry taunts of Valhild, could keep him 
from hanging about the rude stove that Leo had 
managed to erect, and begging for the cakes 
flavored with honey, or the confections of straw- 
berries and cranberries there compounded. 

Roswitha hung about likewise. She did not 
like to hear her father say that no Frank woman 
could dress a meal fit for anything but the hounds, 
and she could not help longing to contrive some- 
thing that might surprise him. So she hovered 
round and watched, and by and by she asked how 
to mix the flour, and how to roll it into a cake, 
and she offered to find the egg that was wanted, 
or to fetch the butter. Her mother only grumbled 
a little but did not interfere, for she knew well 
enough that Roswitha’s value when the time for 
wedlock came would be greatly enhanced by the 
knowledge of cookery. 


196 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

After a few days Roswitha asked, “ I saw you, 
as it were, on your knees yesterday. Art thou a 
Catholic Christian?” 

“ Verily I am, fair maid,” returned Leo. 

“ Ah ! like the holy man who lived in the hollow 
tree, and healed my little brother, and taught us 
many things so much better than what Odin and 
Thor promised — if there is an Odin and a Thor. 
Dost thou think there is, Leo?” 

“ Surely not, lady.” 

“ Yet we hear Thor swing his hammer and make 
the thunder.” 

“ Ah ! maiden, did Gilchrist never tell you that 
it is the glorious God that maketh the thunder? ” 

“ Gilchrist! Then you know his name?” ex- 
claimed Roswitha. 

“ I knew him for a wandering monk from Thule. 
I heard he had been in these parts,” said Leo, 
conscious that he had committed himself. 

“ Ah ! he was a good man. Would that he had 
stayed! Attalus and Milo and I all loved him, 
and we used to go and hear him sing, and pray 
with him. He told us about the God of heaven 
and earth, and his words made Odin and Frey 
dwindle to nothing. And he said that there are 


GILCHRIST'S PUPIL . 


19 7 


houses of his God far, far more beauteous and fair 
than the Ermansaul, where you Gauls can go and 
pray, and be made and kept one with the Holy 
One Who died to save us.” 

“ Quite true, lady, you have drunk in the bulk.” 

“Atli told me first,” she said; “ Attalus, our 

hostage. He is, oh! so learned. He can say 

psalms, and hymns, and prayers, and he can even 
read. He would have taught me, only my mother 
said it would spoil me for a wife to a Graf or 
Freiherr.” 

Leo’s heart beat high, but he only ventured the 
question, “ Where is he now ? ” 

“ He is out upon the Stone Hill pasture with 
the horses. My father will keep him far away, 

and as little near the home house as can be, be- 

cause there are folks who say he ought not to be 
kept as a pledge, though King Theudebert gave 
him to us, and that he is really free. But my 
father says no one has any business to intermed- 
dle, and that he will not let him go without a good 
ransom, as is only fair and just. So he will hardly 
ever let Atli come home, or be where any one can 
see him or help him to escape.” 

Leo did not enter on the question of Hunderik’s 


198 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 

rights over Attalus, and he had too general a dis- 
trust of womanhood to betray his acquaintance 
with the hostage, but he anxiously watched his 
opportunities, and he greatly aided Roswitha, who 
often came to him to ask, over their cookery, ques- 
tions, sometimes about the faith, and sometimes 
as to what a Christian would do in such and such 
a matter. Yes, if he were free-born and no slave, 
Leo had profited by his opportunities in the epis- 
copal household enough to be no bad adviser or 
instructor for the young girl, and her training, or 
perhaps rather her will, manifested itself in her 
obedience to her parents and good-will to all the 
household, her patience with her little brother and 
troublesome, mocking sister, and a sweetness that 
made Hunderik declare that his little Roswitha was 
worth all the rest of the household, and it would 
be a sorrowful day for all when he gave her away 
in marriage. Thus time went on till the mountain 
pasture was exhausted and the horses were driven 
home, and then it was, that when the whole fam- 
ily went out to inspect the growth and promise of 
the young colts, who were all frisking and kicking 
about wildly in their inclosure, Roswitha found 


GILCHRIST'S PUPIL . 


199 


herself near Attalus, and began telling him, “ O 
Atli, my father has bought a famous cook, a Chris- 
tian as wise as Gilchrist was, who knows a great 
many psalms, and can make honey cakes more 
delicious than any I ever tasted, and he is teach- 
ing me.” 

“ Indeed, that is like our good Leo, who was 
more like a brother than a slave,” returned Attalus. 

“ Leo is his name,” said Roswitha. 

“ Ah ! it can never be the same ; Leo never 
would leave his comfortable hearth at my grand- 
father’s palace. Ah! would that I were there! 
How did thy father obtain him ? ” 

“ He bought him from a cook who keeps a tav- 
ern at Treves, and brought him home. It makes 
my mother very angry.” 

“ Ah ! it cannot be he ! He could not have come 
into the hands of a cook at Treves, and I believe 
that Leo is a common name for slaves of Numidian 
blood, because Africa is the country of lions.” 

Roswitha was curious for more information about 
black men, Numidians, and lions. 

However, when Attalus was sitting alone on the 
stone wall around the inclosure for the horses, he 


200 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


beheld a curly black head and well-known face. 
With a cry of joy he rushed up to his friend : 
“Leo! Leo! Can it be thou, old friend?” he 
cried, throwing his arms round him ; but Leo un- 
loosed them. “ Silence ! Silence, sir, or we are 
undone. Sit on the wall, and do not seem to 
heed me.” 

“ But tell me at least, the barbarians have not 
fallen on Langres?” 

“ No, no ; all is well there. Thy grandfather is 
well, only grieving for thee. I came of my own 
will, with his consent, to try to save thee.” 

“ Dear Leo; good friend!” cried Attalus, keep- 
ing his distance with great difficulty. 

“ Hush! Hush! There is no time to tell thee 
more. Only, never by word or sign let the bar- 
barians guess that we are connected. It is our 
only chance, and thou must be patient. I must 
win this master’s confidence ; he thinks me a refu- 
gee, and if he saw a look or sign pass between us, 
his suspicion would be awakened, and we should 
be lost.” 

Attalus had no time to promise, for at the 
moment voices were heard, and Leo put his fin- 
ger to his lips and darted away, and a general 


GILCHRIST'S PUPIL , 


201 


stampede among the colts caused Attalus to rush 
to join the shouting throng who turned them back. 
He had indeed need of patience, for he was kept 
out in the shed, under Bodo’s superintendence, and 
was not allowed to approach the house nor to see 
any more of Roswitha. The report that hostages 
had escaped, and Garfried’s challenge of the right 
to detain him, had rendered Hunderik more vigi- 
lant than ever. The boy remained in a state of 
wonder, doubt, and burning curiosity, looking daily 
for a summons from Leo, till hope deferred began 
to fade away. He dared ask no questions, but he 
found that Leo was supposed to have done some- 
thing that put him at enmity with the more civil- 
ized parts of Neustria. 

Of Roswitha Attalus saw nothing; indeed, he 
was the less willing to put himself in her way that 
he was afraid of betraying Leo, and on her side 
she was warned by the cook not to try to bring 
him and Atli the horse-herd together. She sup- 
posed that he was afraid of Atli’s knowing him 
and accusing him of being a runaway, or of some 
past evil doings. 

She looked up with her great blue eyes and 
said, “ Thou hast done no great wrong, surely, 


202 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE, . 


Leo; thou who knowest so many prayers and 
psalms? ” 

“ No, sweet maiden, I trust I have a clear con- 
science ; but ask no questions and say not a word.” 

“ Ah ! thou art a runaway, as father says ; but 
he will let none hurt thee.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


A WEDDING PARTY. 

UNDERIK had arranged for another 
great feast to take place on the day on 
which the harvest was completed. It 
was understood through the household that this 
would probably be a betrothal feast ; for Aldewold 
of the Yellow Beard sought a daughter of Hun- 
derik for his son Aldebert, though which maiden 
would be chosen was uncertain, and neither was 
beyond childhood. 

As to choice, neither of the parties concerned 
was supposed to have the slightest, nor indeed had 
they. Aldewold would take one or other for his 
son, and the bride would be made over as pass- 
ively as if she were one of the cows of the estab- 
lishment. 

“Which will he take?” said one young girl to 
the other, as they looked at themselves by turns 
in a bucket of water. 



203 


204 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


“ Me,” said Valhild. " He will not like your 
slavish Christian tastes, and I shall be Hausfrau, 
have a golden collar and bracelets, and rule over 
my thralls and slaves.” 

“ I should like the golden collar,” said Ros- 
witha ; “ but I hope Aldewold is not given to the 
worship of Grim and Frey; I should like to live 
near a city.” 

“ That comes of thy loving to talk to Atli and 
Milo and Leo, and all that mean slavish Roman 
crew. Thou wilt never be like a brave Frankish 
Frau, to make all afraid of her. Thou canst not 
even box the ears of a thrall who pulls thy hair — 
she laughs at thee!” 

“ I do not like to hurt any one,” said Roswitha, 
as if she were ashamed of herself, and Valhild 
laughed. 

“Yea, thou art a miserable coward, and no one 
will ever honor thee as Hunderik’s daughter should 
be honored. I believe thou wouldst like nothing 
so well as to get shut up in one of those Roman 
houses which they call nunneries that Gilchrist 
talked of, where they do nothing but say their 
prayers all day long, and never eat flesh, nor go 
out, nor see a man.” 


A WEDDING PARTY. 


205 


“ I am sure I do not want to see a man,” said 
Roswitha ; “ they do nothing but order one about 
and beat one.” 

“ That is because you are so poor and tame a 
creature,” cried Valhild. “ I shall soon make my 
husband know better than to beat me.” 

“ He is the stronger,” sighed Roswitha. 

“ Not always,” said Valhild; “ and, even so, I 
should always be the craftier, and coax if I could 
not force.” 

“ Ah ! I had rather be out of the way of it all,” 
said Roswitha ; “ I would fain be only with good 
women, and learn how to serve their holy God.” 

Poor little maidens, all they had to look forward 
to was the being bestowed, without will of their 
own, on the Frank whose offers best pleased their 
father, whether they liked him or not, or whether 
he were previously married or not. It was quite 
doubtful whether they would win his love ; and 
even if they did succeed, it might be only for a 
time, and there was often poison or murder on 
the part of a rival. Only a strong, masterful, or 
unusually attractive and artful woman could hope 
to prevail, so mournful was the lot of her sex 
among the heathen and half-heathen Franks. No 


206 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


wonder that this festival was no joy to Roswitha, 
and that even Bernhild looked sadly at her daugh- 
ters, and gave them counsel that would sound 
strange in the ears of a bride in these happier 
times, as to how to win their place in the house- 
hold, and how to keep the husband’s heart, and 
prevent themselves from being degraded. 

She had not much hope for Roswitha, though 
the eldest, the prettiest, and the best cook, but 
wanting in spirit and too much inclined to the 
Christian teaching, which was thought to soften 
and weaken the will, and raise scruples which 
would have to be trodden down. 

Roswitha longed to talk to Leo, whom she had 
begun to regard as a wise counselor; but Leo 
was exceedingly busy over the preparations for 
the feast, and could hardly spare a moment from 
his compounding, roasting, boiling, and baking to 
speak to her ; besides that, he was surrounded with 
a company of other slaves obeying his directions. 
She was soon called away, that both she and Val- 
hild might be arrayed in their best garments, and 
have their long flaxen hair arranged to hang in 
silky folds over their shoulders to meet the party 
hourly expected. 


A WEDDING PARTY. 


207 


All the banquet was ready, and Leo was able 
to go away to give out the portion to the various 
herdsmen, a matter which had lately become part 
of his business, since his master thought him un- 
usually trustworthy and in his way economical. 

The guests were near, and Hunderik was com- 
ing to his door to greet them. The two foremost 
were a sunburnt old man, whose cheeks were a 
darker russet brown than the once flowing, now 
whitened, heavy eyebrows and mustache and beard 
that almost hid them, and made his countenance 
like that of an old lion. Tall, slim, and active, 
but not yet at his full height or strength, his son 
came beside him, fair and handsome, and with a 
timidly happy look in his gray eyes which made 
Valhild pinch her sister and say, “There’s a hero 
for one of us — may it be me ! For I see he is dull, 
and will leave all to me.” 

Hunderik held out his hand in welcome, and 
called on his daughters each to present a cup of 
wine on dismounting to their two guests. Ros- 
witha served the old man, Valhild the younger. 

“Ha! fair-faced maids,” cried Aldewold, “but 
younger than I thought for. Which of them is 
for our house, Hunderik?” 


208 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


“ We have not yet fixed our terms,” returned 
Hunderik, “ and it is ill to chaffer between a full 
man and a hungry one.” 

So the guests were conducted into the house, 
where along the central passage tables were ar- 
ranged, and the usual profuse Frank banquet was 
served. Hunderik, as each dish appeared, extolled 
the extreme abilities and faithfulness of Leo, whom 
he had had the good luck to purchase, and who 
not only made meat a different thing from what 
he had ever known before except at a Roman 
table, but was the wisest of men in controlling the 
household and preventing waste, so that he had 
been put in charge of all the stores. “ Far better 
to trust to than women folk, who were hard and 
griping when angry, and over- soft where they 
loved.” 

Bernhild’s brow might well grow dark, espe- 
cially when Aldewold asked in a tone of banter, 
“ Which, then, of the maidens took after her 
mother? ” 

“ That I will not say ;” laughed Hunderik ; “ our 
bargain is not made yet.” 

And not till the rage of hunger was appeased 
did the two fathers begin to bargain, for it was all 


A WEDDING PARTY. 


209 


a question of barter and sale, and Hunderik chose 
his time just as it was getting dark, and before the 
two sets of Franks began their carouse, but when 
their heads were comparatively clear. Hunderik, 
however, had no great confidence in his own power 
of reckoning or ability to perceive where his self- 
interest lay, and he called up Leo to consult. 

There is no need to tell how they argued over 
acres of land, pounds of gold or silver, herds of 
cattle and the like, and what would be the father’s 
dowry, and what the bridegroom’s “morning gift” ; 
nor how Hunderik tried to base his promises of 
gold on the ransom for his hostage that he ex- 
pected to force from that mean old sordid rogue, 
Gregory the Bishop, who was cheating him of his 
due granted to him by King Theudebert. 

They came at last to an agreement, though 
without reference to any such trifle as the decision 
which of the young ladies was to have the prefer- 
ence. Aldebert sat by all the time, but he was 
much too shy and loutish to make any approach 
to attention to them. 

When the bowls of spiced drink were brought 
for deeper revelry Hunderik, perhaps inspired by 
his first draft, declared that the wedding should 


210 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


be in the old fashion of their forefathers — the maids 
should each be mounted on one of his best steeds, 
and have a fair start, and whichever Aldebert first 
overtook and captured should be his. All the 
hearers broke out with shouts of applause. Chris- 
tian rites of marriage were as yet little heard of 
among these wild Franks, and that the maiden 
should be made over by her father after due agree- 
ment and a few words of troth uttered on either 
side, was held to be a true and binding marriage, 
even among the less savage. Roswitha, however, 
listened with shame and dismay, and hid her face 
in her mother’s lap ; but she met with small sym- 
pathy there. Bernhild shook her off, and almost 
boxed her ears. “Be a woman,” said she, “and 
not a babe ; and be proud to be sought, like your 
mothers before you, by a brave man on horseback.” 

Poor Roswitha fell back, and when the great 
leathern vessels of wine and ale were going round, 
and nobody attended to aught else, she wandered 
in the rear of the party, crouched down, and wept ; 
and thus Leo presently saw her as he was passing 
by, putting aside remnants of the feast, and trying 
to secure provision for the journey. He was a 
strange confidant, but the maiden in her wretch- 


A WEDDING PARTY. 


21 


edness knew none other, and clutched at his tunic. 
“O Leo,” she cried, “ can you help me? I can- 
not bear to be borne off by those heathen men, 
caught as though I were a wild beast! Valhild is 
much more willing. How shall I avoid them?” 

Leo had much rather not have been delayed, 
but he could not help listening to the sobbing 
girl, and he stood thinking what might help her. 
“ See here,” at last said he. “Turn thy horse 
amid the pine-trees, where those who know not 
the windings can scarce follow thee, and when 
thou art well out of sight of all, then turn him 
loose, and get thee to the old pilgrim’s hollow 
tree. There none will find thee, no stranger, and 
our own people will never look for thee.” 

“ Then, O Leo, wilt thou not come and tell me 
when all is over, and when Valhild is won? I 
know she will be willing; but I am the eldest. 
Come, then, and take me out.” 

“ Nay, that I cannot promise,” said Leo. “ Do 
not wait for me. Remember there will be feast- 
ing and reveling, and the cook may not be absent. 
Thou canst come to the border of the wood and 
listen. Heaven be with thee, child, however it 
may be! Now I must go. They shout for wine.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

RACING FOR A WIFE. 

IGE was that scene! The two, 
were placed on their horses by 
father, Roswitha shedding tears, 
her parents both telling her not to be a babe, for 
a happy lot was before her, unless her folly, added 
Hunderik, provoked Aldebert, as was too likely. 
She durst not say, “ May it not be Valhild?” for 
Valhild was looking on in mockery, and pretty 
well determined to keep in her horse and be over- 
taken ; though she knew that Roswitha had not 
been mounted on the fleetest, and suspected that 
it was already decided which should be caught. 

The two maidens were allowed a fair start, as 
far as the fir wood, and a rising ground hid them. 
Then Aldebert sprang on the back of his hand- 
some bay, and all the spectators, already holding 
their horses, sprang into the saddle, and gave chase 
tumultuously a little in the rear, shouting, halloo- 



212 


RACING FOR A WIFE. 


213 


in g, and crying out vehemently, some falling in 
the rush, some hindered by vicious horses, who 
stood still kicking, some getting in one another’s 
way. 

Aldebert, splendidly mounted, kept ahead of 
all. Alas for Roswitha’s hopes! She turned her 
horse’s head into the fir wood and trusted she was 
unseen, and that Valhild galloping away would 
alone fix the attention, and she knew that Valhild 
would slacken her pace as soon as she heard hoofs 
behind her. 

But ah ! there was a crackling of boughs, and 
the tramp of a horse. Her steed, in her haste, 
was impelled into a tangle of branches, and she 
could not disengage it. There was the panting 
of a horse’s nostrils close to her, Aldebert’s great 
hands were round her dragging her down. His 
exultant voice cried, “ I have you, I have you, my 
sweet, my own!” 

“ Oh, let me go ! ” and she struggled hard. 
“ My sister will suit thee far better than I.” 

“ That is my concern,” said Aldebert, grasping 
her. “ It is thee I will have, and no other.” 
Then as she tried to push him away, “No, no, 
little maid. Why hate me? I will be good to 


214 THE cook and the captive. 

thee. Thou art gentle and good. My mother 
will like thee, and hark! they say thou art Chris- 
tian. Well, so am I. Thou shalt see thy priest, 
and we will get him to bless our wedlock. Thou 
wilt not find another young Freiherr to promise 
thee as much.” 

This pacified Roswitha a little, partly she felt 
herself helpless in those great arms ; at any rate 
she sat passively while he lifted her in front of 
him on his horse, and it may be that something 
responsive arose in her heart in answer to his 
caresses. However, she submitted to the inevi- 
table. 

Meanwhile the house had been left empty. All 
had gone to see this most exciting chase, except 
a few colts that had been shut in lest they should 
impede the others. They had, at Leo’s suggestion, 
been left under the care of the Roman hostage. 

And now, turning back from the eager throng, 
Leo made his way to the meadow, and there 
walked along on the other side of the rude stone 
inclosure that shut in the colts, and when he came 
near the place where the boy was standing he bent 
down, and lying on the ground under the wall, he 
called in a low voice, “ Attalus!” 


FACING FOR A WIFE. 


215 

There was a start, and the instant inquiry, “ Is 
it Leo? ” 

“Take care! Turn thyself away from me. 
Keep thine eyes on the troop out there. Let no 
one guess we are talking.” 

The voice seemed to come out of the earth, but 
Attalus obeyed it. 

“ Now, listen, before I am missed. Our time 
is come. This is an opportunity for returning 
home.” 

A thrill of ecstasy darted through the limbs of 
the poor hostage, but the word “ How ? ” was hardly 
uttered before Leo added, “ Do not sleep sound 
to-night, but wait near the gate of the yard till I 
shall call thee. No more now.” 

And Leo was gone, while Attalus, hardly be- 
lieving he had heard aright, walked up and down, 
trying to understand what had come so suddenly 
upon him, endeavoring to collect his ideas so as 
to pray that the deliverance that seemed so near 
might be no delusion, and when called to supper 
forcing himself to eat, though his agitation was so 
great that he could hardly swallow, even while he 
suspected that it might be well to lay in a good 
store in case of flight. 


216 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


He had long hours to wait by the time Leo, 
using full speed, had come back to the house. 
For indeed he had much to do — the banquet was 
to be prepared again, now that the capture had 
been made, and Leo’s whole attention was re- 
quired for the various concoctions for the evening 
festival. 

Roswitha, silent if not reconciled, was brought 
back to have all the female skill of the household 
employed on her hair and robes. Valhild, sullen 
and disappointed, had been caught by a young 
Frank, who was expending all his offers and per- 
suasions on her father for what was in fact her 
purchase. 

Leo was called on to assist his master in the 
reckoning, and it ended in the acceptance of the 
terms. Valhild was a certain incumbrance, and 
more would be left for Hundbert. So the two 
children sat side by side as brides, and the feast 
was redoubled in length and boisterous mirth. 
When at length the revelers retired to their beds, 
Leo had to assist in serving a highly unnecessary 
cup all round, and as the bridegroom of the mor- 
row looked out of his box-bed he exclaimed, “Ha! 
my new father’s trusty man ! How is it that thou 


FACING FOR A WIFE. 21 7 

dost not take one of his horses and flee away over 
the border? ” 

“The very thing I mean to do to-night,” re- 
plied Leo, in the like tone of banter. 

“ Then our people had better take care thou 
dost not carry off anything of ours,” sleepily re- 
plied Aldebert, and turned round to rest. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


A RIDE FOR FREEDOM. 

ATCHING, praying, wearying, walking 
about in the dark to keep himself awake, 
sometimes resting, then sleeping a little 
against his will and dreaming he was in the halls 
of Langres, then waking to try to reckon how far 
the stars were on their path, Attalus waited. Once 
he thought himself pursued, and woke to the cer- 
tainty that he heard a great trampling of the 
horses, then saw that there was a faint tinge of 
dawn in the east, and that the great star he had 
been watching was lower in the sky. Philetus had 
taught him to call that planet Jupiter. Would he 
begin all over again with Philetus ? 

There was a step near. He durst not move till 
he heard the low murmur, “ Art thou there, and 
ready? ” 

“ Most ready, O Leo ! ” 

“ All are sound asleep at last. Didst thou leave 
the gate open? ” 



218 


A RIDE FOR FREEDOM, 


219 


“ No — is it so?” 

“ Wide open, and the horses gone.” 

“ It must have been left open when all went to 
try to get a share of the feast,” said Attalus, for 
it was generally secured with a thong of leather or 
a nail. “ I think Whitefoot and Longmane would 
come at my whistle ; or could we not escape best 
on foot ? ” 

“ Hardly safe ; the ground is not broken enough 
if the horses are caught by others. Try what 
thou canst do.” 

The lad whistled in a low, peculiar note, and the 
dark outlines of two of the horses which had not 
strayed far could be seen trotting up. They were 
fond of Attalus and were easily secured, with a 
little coaxing, and he had their saddles and bridles 
hanging up in the shed. 

“ Hast thou arms ? ” asked Leo. 

“ I am never trusted with them, not even a boar 
spear.” 

“ I will fetch some,” said Leo. 

Attalus held his two steeds, caressing their necks 
softly, and bidding them bear him well to home 
and joy, while Leo ran lightly toward the house, 
where he took up a buckler and a spear. With 


220 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


all his care the spear point rang against the ax, 
and Hunderik’s sleepy voice called out, “Who 
goes there?” 

“ Leo, thy servant,” was the answer. “ I am 
going to call Attalus to turn out the young colts. 
Morning is coming, and he is a heavy sleeper.” 

“ Do as you will,” returned the Frank, and went 
to sleep again. 

Leo left the hut. He had already provided 
himself with a shield and a spear, and a bag of 
food which he had left with Attalus and the 
horses. The boy sprang into the saddle as he 
saw his friend coming in the twilight, Leo handed 
him the weapons, and off they started, as the sky 
reddened in the east, and they saw before them 
the wide brown heath. Attalus could hardly check 
a shout of ecstasy as he felt Whitefoot bound 
under him, and the free morning breeze blew 
cheerily in his face. Two years a captive, and 
now his face was set toward home ! 

“ Not that way,” called Leo, presently. “ That 
leads to Treves.” 

“ Is not Treves our first destination? ” 

“ Too near. Hunderik will seek there first, and 
there is no one whom I can trust. We must make 



THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE, 


p. 220 



































































































A RIDE FOR FREEDOM. 


221 


for Rheims, though it is a long stretch, and there 
I know the priest Paulellus will receive us. Haste 
now till we are off this open heath, where we may 
be seen a long way off.” 

“ Happily they will have to catch all the horses 
before we can be pursued, and none will come to 
Bodo or Milo as willingly as to me. They do not 
know the trick.” 

“ No ; moreover they will all be tired out by 
the chase of the bride, for many went for a long 
way, not knowing how soon the poor child was 
caught,” said Leo, laughing. 

“ Poor Roswitha! ” said Attalus. “ May she be 
happy with her barbarous husband! I wish she 
could have fled with us. And Milo too. He was 
my best friend.” 

“The poor little maid!” said Leo, “her fate 
should anyway be a savage Frank, and mayhap 
Aldebert will not be worse than any other. He 
spoke kindly to me.” 

Here broken ground made it needful to give all 
attention to the horses, but by the time they had 
descended the little slope, and reached a marsh 
around a small brook, they could no longer see 
Hundingburg, and therefore knew that they were 


222 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


out of sight from thence, though the daylight was 
now full and the sun was just rising. 

Thus far Attalus knew the ground, and he like- 
wise knew that this stream flowed into the Meuse, 
and that this river had to be crossed before reach- 
ing Rheims. Leo advised that they should take 
it for their guide, keeping as near it as the boggy 
nature of the ground would permit. The green- 
ness of the grass and rushes around would prevent 
them from losing sight of its course, though they 
could not approach it very nearly. 

The fresh clear air seemed to invigorate them 
and their horses, and on they went till the marsh 
had given way to thickets and steeper ground, and 
here they paused a little to let their horses graze, 
and to eat the bread and meat which Leo had 
secured — less, unfortunately, than he had hoped 
for, since too many guests were around the rem- 
nants of the meal for him to pick up more than 
would serve for a scanty meal or two, and Attalus, 
in his haste and excitement, had forgotten to bring 
the remains of his supper; but the joy of freedom 
was meat and drink to them, and they mounted 
again, and made their way through the trees and 


A RIDE FOR FREEDOM. 


223 


bushes more slowly, sometimes being obliged to 
leave their horses. 

Having heard nothing but the quacks of the 
wildfowl, and the songs of the birds in the woods, 
they augured that there was no pursuit in this 
quarter, and full of hope and high spirits, made 
their way on farther as best they might, but a 
good deal impeded by the bushes, and obliged to 
trust to the direction of the sunshine through the 
trees to assure them that they were keeping to 
the southeast. 

At last they came out of the wood, and saw the 
broad Meuse lying before them, the sheet of still 
water shining brightly in the afternoon sun amid 
the green fields, but there were cattle feeding in 
the meadows, figures as of shepherds or herdsmen 
watching them or milking them were visible, and 
there were clusters of huts along the banks. 

‘‘No crossing here for us by day,” said Leo; 
“ we must lie by till all these folk are out of the 
way in their beds.” 

“Will they not help us?” sighed Attalus. 
“ Not if they be Gauls? ” 

“ I would not trust them,” said Leo. “ If Hun- 


224 


THE COOK AND 7HE CAPTIVE. 


derik fell on them for sheltering his runaways 
there is no treachery they might not perform; 
and if they be Burgundians, or have a Burgundian 
master, most likely he is in alliance with Hunderik, 
and would feel bound to give us up. I shall trust 
to no one till I come to the priest Paulellus.” 

“ Ah ! if I could only get a draft of the milk 
that I see those maidens drinking! ” sighed Attalus. 

“ Maybe there are some berries here,” was all 
the consolation Leo could give him, and they got 
what solace they could out of a few bramble-ber- 
ries and cranberries not yet ripe, of which Leo 
gave almost all to the boy. They also saw a few 
large mushrooms, but Leo was not sure enough 
of their qualities to let Attalus eat them, so they 
whiled away the time as best they could till the 
sun was gone down, and then, after chanting the 
evening prayers in a low voice, they still waited 
till the spark of the last light was out in the village 
below, and then stole down across the meadows 
toward the river, Attalus starting more than once 
at dark outlines, and at the sound of a cow champ- 
ing her cud as she lay. 

Arrived at the bank of the river they met 
another difficulty. The horses were but slightly 


A RIDE FOR FREEDOM. 


225 


trained, and had no notion of swimming rivers, 
and there was no impelling Leo’s horse, Long- 
mane, into the water. Attalus’s Whitefoot started 
and snorted, but yielded to his caressing hand — 
they had long been comrades, and he felt sure 
that he could have ridden it across ; but Leo was 
no horseman to begin with, and had had more 
than one trouble with Longmane, which had only 
been got over by Attalus’s familiarity with the 
creature, and even the mounting was a difficulty. 

“ He might let thee be carried away by the 
river,” exclaimed Attalus, after many attempts and 
persuasions. 

“ I had far rather trust to myself and the buck- 
ler than to any beast with a perverse will,” re- 
turned Leo. 

“Then will I do the same,” said Attalus. 

“ Nay, not so,” cried Leo. “ Thou mayest ride 
and swim thy horse through. I can follow with 
my shield.” 

“Never!” stoutly declared Attalus. “Thou 
hast run into peril, borne months of slavery to the 
barbarian for me, and shall I desert thee now ? 
No, sink or swim together.” 

“There is not much danger of sinking,” said 


226 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


Leo. “ I have crossed streams before with a 
float.” 

“ But the horses/’ sighed Attalus. “ Old White- 
foot, canst thou find thy way home, and keep from 
the wolves? Good old fellow, fare thee well! I 
would thou couldst bear my greetings to Milo and 
Roswitha, and tell them all is well with me.” 

“That is less certain yet,” muttered Leo; “but 
we may get on more safely on the other side with- 
out the horses, so we will let them go.” 

Attalus clung to Whitefoot’s glossy neck, per- 
haps he kissed it, and the good steed stood on the 
bank of the river, whinnying as if unwilling to 
part from the lad, who had always been kind and 
affectionate. 

The bucklers which Leo had secured were kite- 
shaped frames of light basket-work, covered with 
leather and stamped with devices, almost equaling 
in length the bearer himself, all save his head, with 
the point made so as to rest on the ground, and 
they were slightly bent inward. Thus they were 
fit to act as floats, and could hold in their con- 
cavity the knives and the few clothes that the fu- 
gitives carried. The use of the great old-fashioned 
Roman baths still frequented in the cities had 


A RIDE FOR FREEDOM. 


227 


taught both to swim a little, and they waded in, 
pushing the shields in front, and feeling the 
bottom with the handle of the spear till they were 
out of their depth, when the spears were laid 
across the bucklers, and they used the freed hand 
to swim with. The river, smooth and quiet as it 
looked, carried them a good way down before they 
could get to the opposite shore, forcing their way 
at last through a reed bed, to the great indignation 
of all the feathered inhabitants, who made such an 
outcry that Leo could only hope there was no one 
to hear it. 

On firm ground at last, they resumed their 
clothes and threw themselves on the grass, Attalus 
crying out triumphantly, “ Ha, ha! Hunderik, the 
river is between thee and me! Leo, brave Leo, 
this is all thy doing. Thou must be free as thou 
hast freed me.” 

“ Do not cry out too soon, young sir,” returned 
Leo. “ It is far to Rheims, and there is no safety 
till we are on the other side ; but we will thank 
God that we are so far on our way.” 

They did so, and then lay down to sleep as well 
as hunger and the chill of the stream would allow 
them. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


ST. REMI’S LAST CONQUEST. 

N early dawn Leo awoke, and seeing a 
thick wood at a little distance called 
Attalus, thinking it better to hide there 
before it was light, since he saw tokens of habita- 
tion. 

Aching and hungry Attalus complied, and they 
spent most of the day among the trees, making 
but little progress, and as the wood was fir find- 
ing nothing to eat, except a few seeds picked, but 
with much trouble, from the cones. However, 
they discovered that it skirted a Roman road, 
which, no doubt, led directly to Rheims, and a 
milestone told them how many stadia they had 
yet to go — a weary reckoning to the exhausted, 
famished boy. 

Nor durst they proceed along it by day, for 
they heard passengers on it at times, and when 
night came, though they could avail themselves of 
228 



ST. REMI'S LAST CONQUEST. 


229 


it, and knew they were in the right path, Attalus 
could not help dragging along, scarcely able to 
put one foot before the other, and at last as morn- 
ing dawned, he threw himself down, and cried out 
that he should give himself up to the first traveler 
he saw. Captivity was better than this. 

“ Yea, for thee, who art a hostage and a noble/* 
said Leo. “ I am only a runaway slave, fit for 
chains and death.” 

“ No, no!” burst out Attalus, “I would rather 
die, starved on the road. Then thou canst go on 
and tell my grandfather thou didst the best for 
me.’* 

“ We are not come that far yet,” said the slave ; 
“ see there — ” 

For the light revealed a tree laden with fruit. 
They were only wild plums, but there were plenty 
of them, and they were not at all to be despised 
by these hungry travelers, who ate enough to feel 
greatly refreshed as they went on their way, ven- 
turing along the beaten track as long as they 
could see a far stretch of it before and behind. 

By and by they heard galloping behind them. 
Happily there was a huge bramble-bush close 
at hand. They rejoiced now that they had no 


230 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 


horses to conceal ; they crept behind the briers, 
and then lay flat on their faces, a good deal terri- 
fied, and laying their hands on their knives as the 
sound of the hoofs slackened in front of them and 
the riders actually came to a halt. 

It was a voice only too well known that said, 
“ I suspect Rheims is not the place, Aldebert. 
We shall have to seek at Treves for the traitor 
cook, who must have been in the plot, or find that 
recreant Garfried of the Blue Sword, who is more 
like to be sheltering them.” 

“When that slave swore he had tracked the 
horses to the marsh — ” began Aldebert’s voice. 

“ In league with them! In league with them,” 
answered Hunderik. “ He shall smart for it ! And 
as for them, the rogues, bearing off my two best 
horses, too! when I catch them, one shall be 
hanged, and the other chopped into little morsels.” 

With these words, having only paused to breathe 
their horses, the riders galloped on, while the two 
fugitives at first lay closer than ever, trembling; 
but presently Leo exclaimed, “ Thanks be to God 
for the difficulties of our way. If we had not 
been carried so far down the river, they might 
have overtaken us.” 


ST. REM PS LAST CONQUEST. 


231 


“ And been carrying out those good wishes,” 
said Attalus. “ The savage barbarian ! As though 
I were not a hostage, and really free.” 

“ Little would he heed that in his wrath,” re- 
plied Leo ! “ But come, up and away ! we shall 

meet no more foes in our path, and can go on 
boldly now.” 

If they went on boldly it was still more wearily, 
and well it was that the two long years of priva- 
tion had hardened Attalus to hunger and fatigue, 
or he could never have held out those last miles, 
which seemed to lengthen themselves out end- 
lessly. 

This was the third night of their journey, and 
the longest of all before the dawn began to show 
them the outlines of the flat buildings of Rheims, 
and even then it seemed as if they would never 
come nearer. However, just as Attalus was about 
to sink with weariness, the sound of a church bell 
revived him, and he struggled on, refreshed by the 
welcome, home-like sound that had not fallen on 
his ear for these long months and years. 

They passed without question under the ancient 
gate, a triumphal arch with Corinthian columns, 
for it was Sunday morning, and people were 


232 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

thronging in to the Matins service. It was still 
dark, and Leo, anxious to get out of the streets, 
lest he should meet his master, asked at haphazard 
the first man he met for the house of Father Paul- 
ellus, the priest. The man, he thought, looked 
curiously at the two dusty, wayworn travelers, 
each carrying a shield and a spear ; but happily 
he was in too great haste to do more than briefly 
reply, “ The first house beyond St. Christopher’s.” 

Leo thanked him, and then was sorry to see 
that he turned to gaze after them. 

They had almost forgotten the days of the 
week in their wanderings, and the Lord’s Day 
had been only observed among the Franks by 
feasts that had more of the sun in them than of 
Him Who made the sun. This was once more a 
Christian place, and Attalus clasped his hands, but 
his thirsty tongue refused to utter anything as 
they passed the massive low-arched cathedral, 
and when they reached the friendly door he was 
reeling against Leo, and looking deadly white. 

Would it be a friendly door? It opened, and a 
priest stood there, arrayed to serve in church. 
“We belong to Bishop Gregory,” said Leo. 
“This is his grandson. We pray thee of thy 


ST. REMI'S LAST CONQUEST. 233 

goodness to take us in and shelter us for his sake 
— or rather, for the sake of God.” 

“ Come in, come in,” was the answer. “ This 
is my dream of last night. I beheld two doves, 
one white, one black, come and perch on my 
hands. Come in, come in, ye whom your Maker 
hath sent me.” 

Across a small court Leo half bore Attalus in, 
who was a white dove, indeed, at that moment, 
and placed him on one of the low couches in the 
outer room. “ Sir,” said the faithful servant, “ it 
is no time for eating, I well know, but we have 
not tasted’ aught but wild fruit since four morn- 
ings ago, and my lord’s grandson is well-nigh 
spent.” 

“ All I can provide is thine, good man. This is 
best at first, till I return, and the food is served,” 
said Paulellus, hastily bringing a jar of wine and 
some cakes of bread. “ Eat, and be refreshed.” 

“And, sir, we are pursued. I pray that the 
door may be secured.” 

“ It shall be, it shall, my son — both this door 
and the outer one. Eat and rest with the blessing 
of Heaven. Or first, bar this door behind me, and 
the outer one, for to Mass I must go, or I would 


234 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

minister to your needs at once. Poor Brother 
Gregory’s grandson at last!” 

He bent down, kissed Attalus, and made the 
sign of the cross over him, dipped a bit of the 
bread in the wine and gave it into his mouth, 
then hurried away ; but Leo touched neither food 
nor drink till the two doors had been fastened 
with heavy bars, nor then until he had fed Attalus 
with morsel after morsel, and the boy revived 
enough to say, “ Eat thyself, dear Leo.” 

They both ate, and then slept soundly, Attalus 
on the couch, Leo lying across the threshold, 
neither of them stirring until Paulellus came in, 
admitted by another entrance to the court on the 
side of the church. 

“ Give thanks, my sons,” he said ; “ you have 
been delivered from a great danger. Did you 
not hear? ” 

“ No,” said Attalus, “ we have slept soundly.” 

“ Methought once I heard a trampling,” said 
Leo. 

“Trampling? yea, verily, thou didst so, my son. 
Full in the midst of the Psalm — it chanced to be 
1 He shall deliver thee from the snare of the 
hunters ’ — in burst two huge barbarians, shouting 


ST. REMTS LAST CONQUEST. 235 

‘ Where are my runaway slaves ? ’ Then rose up 
our holy ancient Bishop, and holding up his hand 
said, ‘ Peace, my son ; seest thou not Whose wor- 
ship thou disturbest?’ The barbarian halted a 
little. The tall form, gray hairs, and uplifted hand 
of the holy Remigius no doubt struck him with 
a certain awe, but he muttered, ‘ I want my 
slaves.’ 

“ ‘ Kneel down and worship, my son,’ then said 
the holy man ; * we will hear thee at a fitting time. 
This is the house of God. Thou must beware!’ 
Those wild Franks have a certain fear.” 

“ And he calls himself Christian,” put in At- 
talus. “ But will he come? Did the Bishop hear 
him?” 

“ The wild ruffians obeyed, and bowed their 
knees, and when all was over the Bishop sum- 
moned them, and the foremost — Hunderik of Hun- 
dingburg, is he not?” 

“Yea, we were with him.” 

“ He laid his complaint that thou hadst been 
given to him by King Theudebert as a hostage, 
and that the treacherous slave whom he had pur- 
chased had come merely to aid thee to escape.” 

" True, sir, but I was no longer a hostage, Tul- 


236 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

Hum and Nasium having been surrendered, and 
Leo came to aid me.” 

“ So the Bishop made him confess, though he 
went on muttering that the King had given thee 
that he might make what he could of thee. Then 
did the Bishop, with the voice of a young and in- 
dignant man, break out : ‘ O man of greed and vio- 
lence, who makest thy prey of a child, weak and 
unprotected, heeding not justice nor mercy, for- 
getting Who is the helper of the friendless, away 
with thee, nor dare to pursue the child of God into 
His precincts!' The Frank was cowed and fell 
back, holding his hands up as if to ward some- 
thing off.” 

“And Leo, is he safe? Faithful Leo, who 
saved me?” 

“ Even so. The Bishop then said, ‘ Renounce 
this unjust and evil purpose, that thus thou 
mayest be forgiven and a blessing rest with thee 
and thine.’ He was really overpowered with the 
splendor of the church and the majesty of the 
Bishop, and the awe of the Presence, and both he 
and his comrade fell on their knees. What they 
said I know not, but the Bishop blessed them, and, 
moreover, bade them to his table.” 


ST. REMITS LAST CONQUEST. 237 

“ Are they there now? Not gone? ” cried At- 
talus in alarm. 

“ There is no fear, my son,” returned Paulellus. 
“ When the Bishop’s feast is over, their steeds will 
be led to his door by a few of the citizens, so as 
to do them honor, and they will be escorted out 
of the city, and the gates shut after them. Re- 
migius has conquered in God’s name once more.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


HOME. 



!HE fugitives were far too much ex^ 
| hausted to continue their journey for 
two days, nor was it needful, for even 


if the fitful spirit of Hunderik should change, and 
he should demand the restoration of Leo, the walls 
of Rheims were strong enough to keep him out. 

They spent the rest of that Sunday chiefly in 
sleep, and only awoke enough to join in thanks- 
giving in church, after they had been bathed and 
freed themselves from the dust and mire of the 
journey. Attalus looked forward to the morrow’s 
real elaborate Roman bath, with all its rubbing 
and shampooing and hot and cold temperatures, 
and then, he said, he should really feel cleaner 
than he had done for two whole years. 

Such relics of Roman habits were a refinement 
considered to be over-luxurious by many of the 
clergy, but the belief that dirt was a sign of mor- 
tification had yet to make its way among them. 


238 


HOME. 


239 


His clothes had become a spectacle of rags, and 
the citizens, who had heard his story, vied with 
one another in presenting garments for the use of 
both himself and his faithful friend — slave he could 
not call Leo, in the assurance that his grandfather 
would reward such devotion by manumission. 
Washed, trimmed, and dressed, the two scarcely 
recognized each other again as the squalid beings 
who had fled from Hundingburg. 

That exterior cleansing they held to be a type 
of their restoration to the privileges and blessings 
of the Church, of which they had been so long 
deprived, and Attalus especially felt that richly 
adorned altar and the dark vaults of the church of 
St. Christopher as his truest resting-place and 
home. 

Afterward he was called on to be presented to 
the Bishop, or rather Archbishop, Remigius, or, as 
the French have always called him, St. Remi. At- 
talus knew that this was a great honor, and one 
that would delight his grandfather. For Remigius 
was in one way the Apostle of the Franks, and it 
was he who had baptized King Clovis. “ Sicam- 
brian, love what thou hast hated, renounce what 
thou hast loved ! ” were the memorable words that 


240 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 

he had spoken when he had baptized and anointed 
the half-savage but awe-stricken king. It was 
whispered among the devout of Rheims, and came 
to be an article of firm belief among the French 
in after times, that the oil wherewith St. Remi 
anointed the king had come in a holy ampulla, or 
vase, brought by a dove from heaven. All this 
was long ago, and Remi was a very old man, but 
still full of vigor and able to rebuke the violence 
of the Frank, and to be much interested in the 
escape of the grandson of Gregory of Langres. 

If he had not been otherwise remarkable his 
great age would have made him memorable, for 
he was no less than ninety-four years old. When 
Attalus, followed at some distance by Leo, was 
brought toward him, the old man was sitting on 
his couch, with cushions behind him, his long gray 
beard and the locks that remained showing pure 
and silvery, his dark eyes still bright under their 
white brows, his face aquiline. He had once, it is 
said, been nearly seven feet tall, and though he 
bent over the staff on which his hands were 
clasped, he still presented a most noble and ma- 
jestic appearance. Attalus always recollected him, 
like Jacob leaning on the top of his staff, and his 


HOME . 


24I 


greeting was in Jacob’s words, “ God be gracious 
unto thee, my son ! ” 

The boy could not but bend the knee before 
him, and wait in silence to be questioned. Remi 
caused him to tell the whole story of his captivity 
and of his rescue, and beckoned Leo to come 
nearer and give his history of the escape, and of 
his entrance into Hunderik’s service while he was 
still the servant of Gregory of Langres. 

Then, while allowing that Hunderik fully de- 
served to lose Leo’s price for his extortionate and 
illegal demand for Attalus, he added, “ Though I 
command it not, yet it seems to me that it would 
be well that none should be able to speak against 
us as evil-doers, and therefore that the amount 
should be restored, if possible, to this ungodly 
man.” 

Attalus and Leo both exclaimed that this should 
be their endeavor, and then the old man gave his 
solemn blessing to the boy “ delivered out of the 
hands of the fowler,” and to the faithful and lov- 
ing “ brother, not servant,” who had ventured 
himself for his rescue. 

They bore his words away warm at their hearts 
when they set out with an escort of traveling mer- 


242 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE. 

chants, and happily mounted on mules, feeling the 
contrast to their former miserable journey ; though, 
such is human nature, Attalus could have com- 
plained of missing the spirit of the unbroken horses 
to which he had become accustomed. 

In due time they rode into Langres, and with- 
out much notice reached the door of the Bishop’s 
court-yard, though Attalus could not help staring 
round on all sides, marveling to see walls and 
trees, houses and stalls so unchanged since he 
went away, long, long ago as it seemed, and his 
heart leaping almost to his throat with the dread 
that he might not find his grandfather or his uncle 
in health or safety. 

The change was all in himself. He had shot 
up from a little childish boy into a tall, strong- 
limbed lad ; looking a good deal more like a Frank 
than a Roman, so that the porter exclaimed, “ Ha! 
Leo ! returned, art thou ? Hast not sped ? Or is 
this stranger come to deal with the master for the 
young lord ? ” 

Attalus held his peace to hear the whole of this, 
then jumped to his feet and cried, “ What wouldst 
give for him, old Lucius?” 

Lucius, in utter amaze, held out his hands. 


HOME. 


243 


“Is it? — it is!” then broke into a cry of wild 
joy, half choked with a sob. The servants came 
running together at the sound, but Attalus hurried 
through with winged steps, found his grandfather 
on his knees in the chapel, fell at his feet, and 
burst out in one joyful cry, “ Praise, praise God, I 
say, Who hath brought me home, safe and sound, 
by the hands of this good — Oh ! where is Leo ? ” 

Leo was the center of all the other inhabitants 
of the house, eagerly gathering up the knowledge 
of his exploit. A few minutes more, and Bishop 
Gregory, leaning on his grandson’s arm, came out 
to him, and embraced him with a shower of tears, 
repeating almost the same words as St. Remi had 
said : “ No more a servant, but a son beloved. 
Leo, thou art free, to whom I owe my child’s life 
and freedom.” 

And Attalus, at the same moment, was ex- 
changing ecstatic greetings with one after another 
— Tetricus, who called him a brand from the burn- 
ing ; Philetus, who hoped he had not forgotten all 
his Greek ; and Baldrik, who looked far more like 
a Roman than he did ; while poor old Gola seemed 
to purr round him like a cat, and was not happy 
till he had attended his nursling to bath and bed. 


244 


THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 


What more is there to tell ? Leo was freed and 
endowed, but was sent to Tours as being more out 
of Hunderik’s reach in case that chief should re- 
pent him of his relenting. There the historian, 
Bishop Gregory, heard the history of the escape, 
which he recorded in his great Chronicle. The 
sum paid for Leo was diligently raised, and was 
sent to meet Hunderik at the next gathering of 
the chiefs of the Burgundian kingdom, and per- 
haps it saved the life of the taverner, Aulus, whom 
Hunderik believed to be a party to the treachery, 
as he considered it. He had complained to King 
Theudebert, who only laughed at him for being 
outwitted. 

Attalus, though an affectionate and right-minded 
lad, had become so accustomed to an outdoor life 
of activity that he had a strong distaste for scholar- 
ship and the training of the clerical life, and his 
grandfather, who lived only a few years after his 
escape, advised his uncle not to try to force his 
will. Finally, he became Count of Autun — that 
is to say, the guardian of the inhabitants, privi- 
leged to plead their cause with the King, as well 
as to be responsible for them. 

He was sent for one day to a nunnery, where the 


HOME. 245 

Abbess wanted to consult him on a summons from 
the reigning king, Hlother, to pay a heavy contribu- 
tion to assist him in his war against his brother. 

For a few moments she looked at him from un- 
der her veil. Then came full recognition. “ Atli, 
the hostage ! ” “ Roswitha, the maiden ! ” 

Her fate had not been a hard one. She had 
been kindly treated. Aldebert and his parents 
had a strong tincture of Christianity, and her de- 
votion confirmed them in it. At the end of a 
year, however, her young husband was killed in a 
skirmish with the Thuringians, and then no objec- 
tion was made to her repairing to the nearest con- 
vent. Her father-in-law escorted her thither, and 
she had been readily admitted, instructed in the 
faith, and received into the sisterhood. There she 
had lived a peaceful life of devotion, far happier 
than was otherwise possible for any woman in 
those days, the dreadful period of Fredegonda 
and Brynhilda. It was a course of devotion and 
of almsdeeds, into which the violent seldom broke. 
“ And,” said she, “ I owe all to thy captivity 
among us. Save for thee and thy friends, Leo 
and Gilchrist, never should I have aspired to 
better things.” 


246 THE COOK AND THE CAPTIVE . 

“Thou art, thou hast been happy?” 

“ Verily I have. My poor young husband was 
always good to me ; I loved him as a child might 
do, and have been glad I knew him and his 
mother. But peace is not in this world beyond 
walls like these, and the true Heavenly Love, 
whereof thou spakest to me first by the Erman- 
saul, is what I have ever craved for.” 

“ Ah!” said Attalus, “ I see once more why my 
captivity came about.” 



















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